Waiting For The Bus Testo

Testo Waiting For The Bus

My name is Gary Tyler, Louisiana born.
Shadow of a poplar tree on fields all ripe with corn.
Sixteen years I counted on the rising of the sun.
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

Of all the disunited states divided black and white,
Louisiana taught me how think and how to fight.
Sixty of us kids aboard the number 91,
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.
The bus was barely moving we were set upon and stopped.
Watched 200 white boys throwing bottles cans and rocks.
Trapped and scared together there was nowhere we could run.
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

Boy outside the bus an automatic in his hand.
Heard a single shot and then we all just hit the ground.
I never pulled a trigger and I never held a gun.
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

A white boy lay there bleeding, the cops they searched the bus.
Never found a thing to say that it was one of us.
Took us down the station, they were beating us for fun.
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

Gun produced from nowhere, they pinned the crime on me.
Lynch-mob for a jury meant they'd never set me free.
Thirty years in prison for a crime I haven't done,
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.
Waiting here the world has turned ten thousand times or more.
Stranded like the man who never knew they'd stopped the war.
Waiting for a pardon, but the pardon never comes.
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.