My land I shall walk bravely, my
inner strength has pulled me through
tough times.
Braves are filled with sadness
watching buffalo dying for no
reason but what the furs will
bring.
The sky cries more then normal
all the corn is dying, the
wheat gone, no food for the
people of my tribe.
The courage of the braves
have disappeared like the
moon behind the clouds, no
dances shall bring what white
men took away.
They took the land, they took
the freedom of the Indian tribes
across the land, they put them
on reservation, promising them
happiness, only a prison without
love was the mark, a mark never
to be forgotten.
Oh Lord, where are all the tribes
gone, all the nations disappearing,
the new replacing the old traditions,
nothing left to carry on the spirit
of our faithful Indian nations.
Children do not fret, the Indian master
from the clouds shall appear and bring
his people home, where the pastures
are green, where the buffalo roam
without fear.
A once together nation has gone
into the past, new tribes and ways
of thinking are taught, where have
the dead gone, they have dug up
Indian burial grounds to build the
almighty sky scrapper.
Praise the Indian, they are true
people of the land, flocks of
tribes have been captured
never to return to their mother
land.
Cross the rivers from generations
to generation giving traditional rights
back to the tribes, who kept mother
happy when they lived off the land of
plenty, without destruction of earths
treasures God gave us to enjoy.