Oh the cross I see Looks more like a lynching tree Like a suffering humanity Strung up by its neck, hands and feet But Jesus is dying upon that tree Oh the cross I see Looks plain like this world to me Some claim that it's fair and free Like their precious democracy But Jesus is dying upon that tree Oh the blood is running down Upon the weeping wailing ground With every body that breaks the earth is shakes You see Jesus is dying upon that tree The cross I see Looks like this devil economy Folks dotting i's and crossing t's Trampling the poor for prosperity But Jesus is dying upon that tree Oh the blood is running down Upon the weeping wailing ground With every body that breaks the earth is shakes You see Jesus is dying upon that tree Mercy, Mercy, Oh my God have mercy on me Mercy, Mercy, Oh my God have mercy on me For the mothers and their daughters For the sons who have lost their fathers For the vagrants and the refugees For the children who have become commodities For the homeless seeking daily bread Begging pocket change needing to be fed For the immigrant working endless days Exploited on a promise with no pay raise For the prisoner locked inside his cell Counting those days as he rots in hell For the victims of this wretched war And for the movement that we'll just keep marching for