The bullet shoots straight and true,
As he watches her fall to the ground.
His love, his land, his people.
He sees the enmity that gives these evil
Men their hellish wings. He can smell
The sulfurous winds that allows these beasts to take flight.
He sees the azure sky blacken before his eyes;
The verdant land painted red with his people’s blood.
His black hair furiously whips about his face;
The spirits vying for his attention.
Telling him of the horrors that will follow once the buffalo are gone.
He watches the carnage unfold before him;
His dark eyes, like slits in the blazing sun.
He sees with a heavy heart,
His home raped
And his people ravaged.
He hears Great Father weep upon the
Breast of Earth Mother. And he feels
The hot stream of tears run down his ancient face.
What have we done to deserve this?
Why, when I ask for peace, am I only answered with death?
As he saw the white man charge upon his horse,
The chief crossed his arms over his broad chest,
And began to sing the Death song.
O Great Father, asetanétóváne.