He was my brother

Five years older than I


He was my brother


Twenty-three years old the day he died




Freedom writer


They cursed my brother to his face

Go home outsider


Mississippi's gonna be your buryin' place




He was singin' on his knees


An angry mob trailed along


They shot my brother dead

Because he hated what was wrong





He was my brother

Tears can't bring him back to me


He, he was my brother


And he died so his brothers could be free

Oh died, he died so his brothers could be free