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
This town'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
He died so his brothers could be free