歌手:Bob Dylan
专辑:《The 50th Anniversary Collection 1963 - 2013》

A bullet from the back of a bush took medgar evers blood.
A finger fired the trigger to his name.

A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim

Behind a mans brain

But he cant be blamed

Hes only a pawn in their game.

A south politician preaches to the poor white man,

You got more than the blacks, dont complain.

Youre better than them,
you been born with white skin, they explain.

And the negros name

Is used it is plain

For the politicians gain

As he rises to fame

And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train

But it aint him to blame

Hes only a pawn in their game.

The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,

And the marshals and cops get the same,

But the poor white mans used
in the hands of them all like a tool.

Hes taught in his school

From the start by the rule

That the laws are with him

To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
bout the shape that hes in
But it aint him to blame
Hes only a pawn in their game.

From the poverty shacks,
he looks from the cracks to the tracks,

And the hoof beats pound in his brain.

And hes taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch

To hang and to lynch

To hide neath the hood

To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He aint got no name
But it aint him to blame
Hes only a pawn in their game.

Today, medgar evers was buried
from the bullet he caught.

They lowered him down as a king.

But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
Hell see by his grave

On the stone that remains

Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:

Only a pawn in their game.