Who was it who killed poor George Floyd,
who was it who made his life null and void?
Not me, said the cop who stomped on his neck
I was just tryin’ to keep the man in check.
He couldn’t breathe but it’s not my fault
I had to keep him down, I had to quell revolt.
So, who killed poor George Floyd,
while some looked on in Schadenfreude?
Not me, said the President with his strident claim,
These thugs who protest, it’s them I blame
If they don’t go home the guns will sound,
I’ll let out the dogs so there’s blood on the ground.
Well, who then killed poor George Floyd,
was he killed for something he was trying to avoid?
Not me, said the driver of the pickup truck
He was an old black man who ran out of luck
I’m just tryin’ to do my job,
don’t blame me, I’m not part of the mob.
Who was it who killed poor George Floyd,
were they scared of him, or were they just annoyed?
It wasn’t us, the people screamed, “we’re as honest as the day is long,
Our nation is free, our nation is strong.
We can’t help it if the black man falls,
if want your freedom, you must obey our laws.
Who killed poor George Floyd,
who took his life while with the same life they toyed?
Not me, said the judge from his bench on high
We can only watch while our citizens die,
We apply the law as it’s handed down,
we don’t judge over black, brindle, white or brown.
So, who then, killed poor George Floyd,
and why were the bullets and tanks deployed.
To keep the peace, said the Chief of Police, from behind his shield,
it’s the only way to make protesters yield.
Their dignity will have to wait,
now please step back behind the gate.
Who, this is the question, killed poor George Floyd,
could it happen here, amidst all the peace we’ve enjoyed?
Nothing to see here, said the Mayor of the town
We’re in a different place, we don’t hold our citizens down.
it can’t happen here, we’re more civilised,
we understand the injustice of those who have died.
So then, who killed poor George Floyd,
who stole his life, how was justice employed?
It can’t be us, or our society,
it’s fine to be liberal, to a degree.
But just as the ghosts, the ghosts of Jim Crow,
they die in the dust, as they did long ago.