Mountain streams, fresh and sparkling run musically under the sun
Trout fatten on Mayflies, along the banks, color flora accent its run
Shading trees of all type, fruit bearing and floras, a wondrous sight
Ground covered grasses galore, scrubs bloom under Father's light
Before this temple as the sun shines bright, my heart beats strongly
Release the doves into the blue dawn where their wings sing a song
I beat the tall grasses to drive away the shadows of fear and shame
They move like the snake through the grass, hunting a soul to claim
Twilight makes me ware, Sister Moon creates a world for evil to play
Within the last of twilight, I see a lone rider on a horse racing my way
In a cloud of dust he's before me, stares into my eyes with his of fire
He moans,"I'm all shadows of your past people, know me as the crier"
The Indians echo their cries, seen painted across the mountain's face
Painted ponies dark wildly in and out of the shadows at a frantic pace
Lodges numbering in the thousands, pitched beside the singing waters
Living off the land, peaceful people working as one unit, in total order
Within the cloud of dust, I am a witness to the shadows that they cast
It's clear to me, hidden within the grass are shadows of a people past
Shadows I see, are the echoed souls etched across my people's heart
Forevermore, they'll tell the story of my people's heritage, never to part
Stories of the American Indian, told by the shadows that history casts
Every time I turn around, where ever I go, I'll see shadows of the past
The Indian vanished in the dust, left are the shadows from their defeat
No longer the tribes own the land of their forefathers, history repeats...
