the laird

the laird is arriving, he ran to the east, he stood in the courthouse, pleading his case, his crime was a passion, an aching for peace, and he's not alone, and he's not alone, and he's not alone, and he's not alone, let my people go, his soul is on paper, freshly changed, and white men they keep him, oh and not changing, and he's not alone, yeah, and he's not alone, and he's not alone, and he's not alone, yeah, let my people go