Blood From My Hand

I have torn my skin, I have withered away my aged flesh

I have bled the blood of native men, I have planted the seed, the corn in my hand

The crops I have watched grow, in the warmth of the driven sun burning through the trees

Let my hands find a place, and touch this earth once again, as I did in the very beginning

As our Cherokee people brought this farmland to be, we gave birth to the earth and plenished

Our children played, our women fed, and we hunted this land with our naked sword

The spear of our fathers and the gift of mother nature, be the blood from our souls

The lust of our ancient ancestors, and we will meet in the valleys, we will ride bare back

On the white stallion, and make love in the forest, as we wrestle in the ivy and feel the pine scent

Of time and the earth will be ours once again

Not forgotten, not deserted, but brought to the sky and blessed in the blue heavens

Where the spirit of native dreams, will heal the wounds of all time