This was written from the viewpoint of a fictitious American Indian in the middle of the 19th century and no modern people were targeted when this was written by me so many years ago.

A Cry

Through these lands we walked in grace
One with nature, loving life
The hand I've been dealt was a fist in the face
White men brought in droves their strife
Onward go, to the wild frontier
Drivin' me out from the place I live
Power en masse was an innocent's fear
They take it all away, then refuse to give

Fairy tales as white as snow
My anger lashes forth from me
White-washed and pristine, your fables grow
From murder so blind to glorius victory
Teachers poisoning tomorrow's hope
Feedin' them trash that can't be good
In listening to your crap, I cannot cope
Genocide is the message to be understood

I'm seeing red when I look at your page
Truth be told: you bother me
Your attitude fills me with rage
Asking me to smile after what you did to me
You slaughtered my people like they were cattle
Custer and his men have branded me
And I'll die fighting 'til the very last battle
Or 'til you realize this insanity

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