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
That lives in my blood
Of the brand you laid
On all you touched
But the burning flame
Turns to burning pain
Genuine genocide
And that’s truly insane
So like a wild hurricane
I will dance on the grave
Of my race that died
When it should have been saved
American ghost dance…
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