In the skeleton forest
The white wolf prowls.
With eyes as cold and blue
as the winters skies.
The drought of the spirits
Steals our strength.
The power of the roaring Buffalo
on the mighty plains is silenced.
Only the death throes of our time
Leaves echoes in the trees.
Hear my song
it is from the times past.
Smell the smoke of the pipe.
Hear the stories of great chiefs.
Lie in thetipi of blessed memory.
Kiss the bride of your shared blood.
Deliver the children
that will be our might.
Put the spirit of lost thoughts
Back into the white man's bottle.
Arise and be as we are
As we were
The great nation of the tribe.