| Now that your big eyes have finally opened
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| Now that you’re wondering how must they feel
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| Meaning them that you’ve chased across
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| America’s movie screens
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| Now that you’re wondering how can it be real
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| That the ones you’ve called colorful, noble and proud
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| In your school propaganda, they starve in their splendor
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| You’ve asked for my comment, I simply will render
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| My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying
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| Now that the long houses breed superstition
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| You force us to send our toddlers away
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| To your schools where they’re taught
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| To despise their traditions
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| You forbid them their languages, then further say
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| That American history really began
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| When Columbus set sail out of Europe
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| Then stress that the nation of leeches that conquered this land
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| Are the biggest and bravest and boldest and best
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| And yet where in your history books is the tale
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| Of the genocide basic to this country’s birth
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| Of the preachers who lied, how the Bill of Rights failed
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| How a nation of patriots returned to their earth
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| And where will it tell of the Liberty Bell
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| As it rang with a thud o’er Kinzua mud
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| And of brave Uncle Sam in Alaska this year
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| My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying
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| Hear how the bargain was made for the West
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| With her shivering children in zero degrees
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| Blankets for your land, so the treaties attest
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| Oh well, blankets for land is a bargain indeed
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| And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected
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| From smallpox-diseased dying soldiers that day
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| And the tribes were wiped out and the history books censored
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| A hundred years of your statesmen have felt
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| It’s better this way
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| And yet a few of the conquered have somehow survived
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| Their blood runs the redder though genes have paled
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| From the Gran Canyon’s caverns to craven sad hills
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| The wounded, the losers, the robbed sing their tale
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| From Los Angeles County to upstate New York
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| The white nation fattens while others grow lean
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| Oh the tricked and evicted they know what I mean
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| My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying
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| The past it just crumbled, the future just threatens
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| Our life blood shut up in your chemical tanks
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| And now here you come, bill of sale in your hands
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| And surprise in your eyes that we’re lacking in thanks
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| For the blessings of civilization you’ve brought us
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| The lessons you’ve taught us, the ruin you’ve wrought us
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| Oh see what our trust in America’s brought us
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| My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying
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| Now that the pride of the sires receives charity
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| Now that we’re harmless and safe behind laws
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| Now that my life’s to be known as your 'Heritage'
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| Now that even the graves have been robbed
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| Now that our own chosen way is a novelty
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| Hands on our hearts we salute you your victory
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| Choke on your blue white and scarlet hypocrisy
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| Pitying the blindness that you’ve never seen
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| That the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory
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| They were never no more than carrion crows
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| Pushed the wrens from their nest
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| Stole their eggs, changed their story
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| The mockingbird sings it, it’s all that he knows
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| «Ah, what can I do?», say a powerless few
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| With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye
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| Can’t you see that their poverty’s profiting you?
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| My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |