Ghost Warriers

Shadows dance on canyon walls, They are shadows from my fire.
And from these walls Ghost Warriors call "Your history is a liar."
"Our sacred lands were stolen and this we can't forget."
"The spirits of our warriors who gave their lives for it."

But the wind whispers to me that the shadows I see are visions of when the west was young.
And the Indian danced around his council fire where prayers to the Great Spirit were sung.
They asked the Great Spirit to guide them in this their troubled time.
For the white man walked upon their land and said "This land is mine."

It was the search for yellow iron that became the red man's curse.
For the white man swarmed upon their land each fighting to be first.
And no amount of prayers could stop the coming flood.
Soon the yellow iron was bathed in Indian blood.

The Great Spirit couldn't help them they had to fight alone.
For the mountains and the desert that had always been their home.
The Indian was defeated and just seemed to fade away.
And his sacred lands were ravished it seemed in but a day.

The mountains were blasted open; the gold ripped from beneath the earth.
The wounded land lies silent now and has but little worth.
The Indian is gone forever from this land that once was his.
And no one seems to want it now not the way it is.

So now that you know their story, will you listen to the whispering wind?
The ghosts of ancient warriors are singing their songs again.
They're singing to the Great Spirit their sad and mournful prayers.
Asking Him to make whole again this land that once was theirs