Cherokee, Kiowa, Black Crow and Sioux, the sacred buffalo was our food,

That was the way before progress came and transformed the Indian into a National game. Cherokee’s a truck and Red-Skins ah team,

Brother man, how mean

Lightning-sticks firing clouds of doom,

Firewater tormenting my native soul,

No wigwam, no teepee, no man-child or squaw, will survive the onslaught of this pale-man-o-war,

On his weary midnight horse he came,

In friendship’s name he came,

Great Spirit of excess, he came,

With cross in hand he came, to civilize the red man savage he came.. to tame,

Destroying a race and trivializing its fate, to date,

Faceless enemies destroying lands without hands,

Decimating, eradicating, eliminating, exterminating,

Give me your poor and tired masses…. 

Amazing grace how sound the sweet, a wretch like us didn’t save.