Not many folks think of long ago.
They're to wrapped up in to and fro.
But I sit here with my mind on a hill,
A mountain of such, if you will.
Our Indian brothers walked this land,
With pride and love, go hand in hand.
They hunted, they fought, they lived and died.
They did it all with heads held high.
They taught their young to respect this land.
Respect the animals and do all you can,
To keep the beauty of the streams and trees
For future generations, for all to see.
All thats left now is Spirits that cry.
No lessons been learned, respect has died.
The peaceful land, it's beauty shattered.
To grow, to thrive, that's all that mattered.
Now around every curve, every bend
Another new empty beer can!
Broken furniture, tires and trash
Garbage, appliances and things you stash!
The Spirits are watching, have you no pride!
For what you have done, you can not hide!
Just look at what you have thrown down the hill!
You will be sorry, and some day you will!
For Spirits that walk, I prey peace you find.
Please don't give up on all of mankind.
Some of us still see the beauty that was.
One day I hope the rest of us does.
When those of you who have trashed the land,
Lay down at night with head in hand.
I hope you have dreams of what you've done!
The mess you've made cant be undone!
You should be sentanced to sleep in the mess,
So you can hear the Spirits restlessness!
And when you see the tears in their eyes,
You can ask yourselves - I did but why?
Chiefs and Holymen, warriors and maidens
Lived on this land for many generations.
What if they left their trash for you?
You wouldn't have a place for yours - boo hoo!
