Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Dollar Signs

Dollar Signs
The magical land
That once held my tears
Turns black with wealth,
Growing modernization
Out of the corners of
A cobwebbed future.
Dollar signs become
Our tradition, not so
Much the twisted language
That spirals on our tongues, dead
And unable to resuscitate.
We breathe the salish designs
But spew out change and want.
Desires become our culture,
We used to honor the animals,
Now we take their homes and
Blame them for missing children.
They''re just getting back at us.
We look upon the same
Yellow sky and wonder why
Everything has changed
So drastically, but we never
Answer the obvious question.
We know where we're going.
It's turning us black.

10-14-10


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Dollar Signs

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