Perhaps you think the Creator sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit
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If I thought you were sent by the creator
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I might be induced to think you had a right to dispose of me
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Do not misunderstand me
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But understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land
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I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose
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The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it
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I claim a right to live on my land
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And accord you the privilege to return to yours
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Brother we have listened to your talk
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Coming from our father the great White Chief at Washington
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And my people have called upon me to reply to you
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And in the winds which pass through these aged pines
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We hear the moanings of their departed ghosts
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And if the voice of our people could have been heard
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That act would never have been done
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But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen or heard
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Their tears fell like drops of rain
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I hear my voice in the depths of the forest
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But no answering voice comes back to me
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All is silent around me
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My words must therefore be few
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I can now say no more
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He is silent for he has nothing to answer when the sun goes down
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-----------------
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Words of Fire, Deeds of Blood
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| The Band |
