| Grandfather sung to me
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| The weeping woman spoke
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| Down beneath the trees is the wisdom of the old
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| I seen plenty of disrespect
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| For the knowledge of the land
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| It’s my people who I see lost in other peoples hands
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| Everybody’s hoping to see you at their door
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| Taking care of people you don’t know
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| Staying inside in their homes whispering
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| To the dark eyes outside the door
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| To the dark eyes
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| Outside their door
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| No todo está perdido
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| Estoy con mi gente
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| Trabajo con miedo pero yo soy consciente
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| I’m losing the fear
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| Cause the work it’s here
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| Ojibway and Yaquis hope is in our ways
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| We show our sanity,
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| Nobody sees us but we are running things
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| The bats and the land are sacred beings
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| Oricas Lencas,
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| Now we are the ones
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| Bringing and taking caring for the others
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| Every morning I look out
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| From the corner of the mart
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| I’m just here waiting to help you
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| There can be no fear for us
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| When the people they come back like it used to be before
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| I want it better, better than it was before
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| Everybody’s hoping to see you at their door
|
| Taking care of people you don’t know
|
| Staying inside in their homes whispering
|
| To the dark eyes outside the door
|
| To the dark eyes outside their door
|
| To the dark eyes outside their door |