I had a little white book when I was young
Told the story of a people whose time had come
Wandered the earth just to say where they were coming from

They were chosen long ago to be persecuted,
To be ill-reputed, and to be excluded
Then the sea opened up and they walked right through it to freedom

Freedom from the blood on the door
Freedom from the mud on the floor
Freedom, and if you ask me what for you’re the only one
I don’t need them, I heard myself say
I don’t need them, but they’re coming my way
And I see them, but I don’t know what to say
When they ask if I’m one of them

Well I turned on my TV just the other day
Then I got in my car and heard the radio say
Something about how they all control the media

Then I was thinking about my old ancestors
Got a couple of Chaim’s and several Sylvester's
A Macintyre, Sloat, and they’re all on the boat to freedom

Freedom from the knock on the door
Freedom from the blood on the floor
Freedom, and if you ask me what for you’re the only one
I don’t need them, I heard myself say
I don’t need them, but they’re coming my way
And I see them, but I don’t know what to say
When they ask if I’m one of them

I had a little white book when I was young
Told the story of a people whose time had come
Who wandered the earth just to see where they were coming from

Well they roamed and they roamed and they never looked back
They were on their own, they were under attack
When I think of myself like that, I think that I need them

Need them for the blood on the door
Need them for the mud on the floor
Need them, and if you ask me what for
It so that I can say I’m one of them