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Jogging in Georgia
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Tom on vocals and guitar; Wylie Robbins Thorne-Thomsen on mandolin.
Acoustic - Acoustic General
Charts #53 today (peak #1)
Charts #14 in subgenre today (peak #1)
Tom Neilson
Tom Neilson 2020
August 08, 2020
1 version uploaded:
MP3 10.3 MB  •  320 kbps bitrate  •  4:30 minutes
Story behind the song
On February 23, 2020, Ahmaud Marquez Arbery, a 25-year-old African-American man, was murdered while jogging near Brunswick in Glynn County, Georgia. His assailants were three white men, Gregory and Travis McMichael and William Roddie Bryan. They followed him and shot him in the street. The three men were not taken into custody until May and in June all three were indicted on murder charges.
Lyrics
Cant walk from the corner store cant shop at Walmart anymore Cant sit in your car reading a book W/o you know who thinking your a crook. Cant be with your grandma talkin on the phone Cant be relaxin at your home alone Cant be 7 yo sleepin on the couch at night; 10 yo old with his dad in the morning light; Cant be 12 and play with a toy gun Cant go to church in Charleston So you go for a run, but up ahead Oh Joggin in GA can leave you dead. Joggin in Georgia, Joggin in Georgia; Weve come another century And still strange fruit hangin from the poplar tree. How do you know when your with a cop If your Terrence or Corey, is this the last stop Cant get help when your car breaks down You never know whos standin their ground And Randys question, was it something he said That he ended up with a bullet in his head Joggin in Georgia, Joggin in Georgia; Weve come another century And still strange fruit hangin from the poplar tree. They dont need any excuse Just another Black man on the loose Got a Knee on your neck; knee on your head; They either choke you or fill you with lead Cant play music a little too loud; Cant leave a party with a crowd. Get shot for a hair brush, you should have used a comb Cant decorate for a party at your home Cant cash a check or sell a CD. Cant buy some skittles; show your id Joggin in Georgia, Joggin in Georgia; Weve come another century And still strange fruit hangin from the poplar tree.
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