Strange fruit… still hanging… Southern trees bear a strange fruit, Heavy with sorrow, quiet and cruel. Swinging gentle in the evening breeze, Under the same old magnolia trees. Pastoral silence, a beautiful lie, While shadows dance where the old oaks cry. The scent of flowers mixed with the pain, A harvest no one wants to claim. The wind carries whispers nobody hears, Another name lost through the years. Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… How long will you keep hanging there? Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… The tree keeps growing, but the pain remains. They smile for cameras, they speak of peace, While another soul finds no release. The same old story, different name, Same heavy silence, same quiet shame. No ropes are needed in modern days, Just quiet indifference and turning away. The fruit keeps falling, season by season, In this endless, bitter reason. Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… How long will you keep hanging there? Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… The roots run deep and the wound stays bare. One of these mornings the leaves will fall, One of these mornings we’ll see it all… But tonight… another strange fruit falls. Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… Carried by the wind, remembered by the rain. Strange fruit… oh strange fruit… When will this orchard break its chain? Strange fruit… Still hanging… Strange fruit…
