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Show me a heart that does not bleed when
A father is taken from his family,
A heart that isn’t torn apart when
A mother nurses another woman’s child,
That still-beating heart that feels nothing when
A church is bombed, killing somebody’s baby girl.
Find for me one red-blooded American heart that can’t recall when
A young man was beaten beyond recognition for “forgetting his place.”
Show me that heart, that cold, unfeeling, hate-heavy heart,
And then I will say that I have certainly seen
The Heart of Dixie.