"Native Son"

You finally found the mainstream
In the middle of your life
You tapped into a vein
Of endless gold chains
Now you're locked up tight
Tearing down the middle of it
Splitting it right in half
Bobbing up and down the waves
Like [bad word] slave
On a Huck Finn raft

 [bad word] ]
Take your wife
Take your family
Take your gun [bad word] through the woods
And the burned out neighborhoods
Looking for someone
member of your tribe
place you can hide
'Til the war has begun
'Cause in the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son

Where you [bad word] to
There ain't no underground
If only you could fly
You'd cut across the sky
Like a rifle round
Oh, who are your people
And where is your homeland
'Cause they're dying side by side
At the river of pride
Where we tried to take a stand

 [bad word] 2x]

In the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son.

Writer(s): John Hiatt