Where will our children live?

A lonsome warrior stands in fear of what the future brings, he will never hear the beating drums or the songs his brothers sing.

our many nations once stood tall and ranged from shore to shore, but most are gone and few remain and the buffalo roam no more.

we shared our food and our land and gave with open hearts, we want peace and love and hope but all were torn apart.

all this was taken cause we did not know what the white man had in store, they killed our people raped our lands and the buffalo roam no more.

but those of us who still remain hold our heads up high, and the spirits of the elders flow through us as if they never died.

our dreams will live on forever and our nations will be reborn, our bones and beads and feathers all will be proudly worn.

if you listen close, you'll hear the drums and songs upon the winds, and in the distance you will see... the buffalo roam again.