Oh give me a home
Where the buffalo roam
And the death of a race is a game
Where seldom is heard
A peacable word
>From the white trash
Who killed as they came
Though these words dig deep
They offer no relief
God save the queen
I am an indian chief
There is a secret I keep
It's called the talking leaf
And you better believe
That he speaks his beliefs
Like a rock that bleeds
A sea of grief
My talking leaf speaks of
A wounded knee creek

American ghost dance...

A new man who is with old ways
He walks the streets of life
But he's in chains
I'm alive he cried
I can feel the flame
Burning red inside
I am an indian brave
There is a memory

To be continued...