Words Of Fire, Deeds Of Blood

Perhaps you think the creator has sent you here to dispose of us

As you see fit

If I thought you were sent by the creator

I might be enduced to think you had a right to dispose of me

Do not misunderstand me

But understand me fully

With reverence to my affection for the land

I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose

The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it



I claim a right to live on my land and accord you the previlege to return to yours

Brother we have listened to your talk

Coming from our father the great white cheif at washington

And my people have called upon me to reply to you

And in the winds which pass through these aged pines

We hear the moanings of there departed ghosts



And if the voice of our people could have been heard that act

Would never have been done

But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen

Nor heard

Their tears feel like drops of rain

I hear my voice in the depths of the forest

But no answering voice comes back to me

All is silent around me

My words therefore must be few

I can now say no more



He is silent

For he has nothing to answer

When the sun goes down