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
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