| Thick cloud — steam rising — hissing stone on sweat lodge fire
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| Around me — buffalo robe — sage in bundle — run on skin
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| Outside — cold air — stand, wait for rising sun
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| Red paint — eagle feathers — coyote calling — it has begun
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| Something moving in — I taste it in my mouth and in my heart
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| It feels like dying — slow — letting go of life
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| Medicine man lead me up though town — Indian ground —
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| so far down
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| Cut up land — each house — a pool — kids wearing water
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| wings — drink in cool
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| Follow dry river bed — watch Scout and Guides make
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| pow-wow signs
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| Past Geronimo’s disco — Sit 'n'Bull steakhouse — white
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| men dream
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| A rattle in the old man’s sack — look at mountain top —
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| keep climbing up Way above us the desert snow — white wind blow
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| I hold the line — the line of strength that pulls me through
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| the fear
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| San Jacinto — I hold the line
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| San Jacinto — the poison bite and darkness take my sight —
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| I hold the line
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| And the tears roll down my swollen cheek — think I’m losing
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| it — getting weaker
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| I hold the line — I hold the line
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| San Jacinto — yellow eagle flies down from the sun —
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| from the sun
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| We will walk — on the land
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| We will breathe — of the air
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| We will drink — from the stream
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| We will live — hold the line |