We ride upon
the white-eyes--
The blue-coats
are many
we are few.

Thuddah-thuddah--

They have the rifles
that shoot many times.
We have hearts
often broken as the
promises made us

Thuddah-thuddah--

We will not go
to reservations
and be starved to death.
We shall fight with the moon
In the morning sky

Thuddah-thuddah--

We have spent the night dancing,
beneath her brightness.
We wear the ghost shirt
so the fire of the white eyes
will pass harmlessly by

Thuddah-thuddah--

We have beaten the Ghost drum
and circled the raging fire
chanting to the Great Spirit
playing the Ghost Flute
We are invulnerable

Thuddah-thuddah--

We see you, white eyes
we scream our defiance
contemptuous of death.
You have raped the land
and murdered its children

Thudah--Thudah--

Feel our power
feel our arrows
Feel our...

Blam!

Darkness steals my vision
I lay in a pool of my own blood.
Lied to once again
because I wanted to believe.
No matter...

It is a good day to die.

---------------------------------------------------------
This poem is based on a true event,
the last great Indian rebellion--
It didn't come off quite as expected.
---------------------------------------------------------