| I’ve seen many moons through these wrinkled eyes
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| The years have made me old but they’ve made me wise
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| Now the white man lives where our rivers run
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| For now better days have passed
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| We walk the streets of broken glass
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| Our people vanished as snow before the summer sun
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| Like dogs we were driven from this place
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| Such injustice, time will not erase
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| All these changes cannot be undone
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| When you feel the anger inside of you
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| Hold your head high — let your aim be true
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| Though your heart beats like a drum
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| My native son
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| Once there was a time my little one
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| Before the wagons — before the soldiers' guns
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| When this land was ours as far as the eagle flies
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| No white flag — no broken truce
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| With few words one can speak the truth — I don’t hear it
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| Time won’t heal it now
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| With each new day that comes to pass
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| Will the great spirit free us all at last?
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| He said we were the chosen ones
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| For all we had there’s nothin' left
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| We won’t forgive — we can’t forget
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| You know that your day will come
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| My native son
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| With each new day that comes to pass
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| Will the great spirit free us all at last?
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| What has happened can never be undone
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| When I was young — not yet a man
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| The sun rose and set upon our land
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| We were the chosen ones
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| My native son |