Arrowheads and Flint knapped knives,
survive the act of taking lives,
whether battle or hunting game,
into the future, they ride the rain.

From sandy hills and from creek beds,
painting pictures in our heads,
turquoise beads and pottery shards,
strewed about like fallen cards.

These tell us stories from the past,
civilizations never last,
but do we heed the lessons learned?
No, we continue unconcerned.

Building hate between our clans,
left and right divide the lands,
and in the days of future time,
someone else digs up our crimes.