Graveyards are dug, but no one there to stand up for our Hmong’s ancestor.
Today I have rise to guide my ancestor with every moral they gave me.
If someone dears to kill me on the place I stand.
I shall not fall and rise up again to the heaven‘s tree.
I shall bow to no one and die nowhere to guide the grave’s of my ancestor.
My bow is stronger then every bomb on this earth.
My ka from my ancestor shall guide me as if I am our Va.
I mean to hurt no one, but a promise is a bow to my ancestor.
Until a perfection of harmony rise for us Hmong pass the heaven’s trees.
Prejudice shall be demolish by me, but with my ka and not weapon of great destructions.
The hungry wolfs that had dug my ancestor’s grave will fade away with no ka.
Even if the person that dug my ancestor’s grave is a high priest.
You dig them and we all shall rise like the buffalo starting a rampage.
There graves are my grave as if my ka grows from their.
Dig no more and allies we are, but dig them all war shall rise to the day metal and rock collide.
Also to the day your tear drop to the sea to the day you find that small tear you had drop on our ancestor’s graveyard.
