Genocide has happened here in America.
There used to be the Buffalo on high grassy plains, storming across the prairie like torrential rains
There used to be the beaver, the wolf and bear
Now there are few, now They are rare
There used to be drums, There used to be dance, there used to be a people that had a fighting chance
Now there is nothing left for them
Their tribes have been raped
A lost lost people with no hope or pity, no goodness sake
How would We feel with our souls, our homes cast into flames?
After what I saw today, I must cry
They are a forgotten people, taken for granted and spurned
They watched as their heritage was spit on and burned
A newly discovered country the scholars do cheer
What about the people that were already here?
What I saw today made me feel guilty, who is to blame?
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