These tears that I cry

Here am I

My blood runs through my body

My heart is beating it’s time

  and still, this is not just me

I watch in the mirror

  and see the reflexion

Of what am I

  in this life

But yet, that’s not just me

I am made of memories

Of lives lived in pain, suffering and love

Of lives lived in devotion, hunger and tears

These tears that are running down

  are from a live suffering as a great warrior I was

  fighting the white man

Yes I was there when we battled on the hill

Yes that was me

  when I cried my own child

  shot by a gun

Yes I was there

  when we celebrated the last Ghost dance

I was there

  when the last free Indian

  got closed up in a reservation

These tears that are running down

Are from a live suffering from being chased

When I was a gypsy

When freedom was paid with pain and injustice

When my first child died in a cold winter night

And my second slipped away by hunger

These tears that I cry

Are from a live suffering as a priestess

And when people of the new faith came

And when they destroyed my temple

Destroyed my altar

Destroyed my goddess

Destroyed everything I believed in

Leaving me just obscurity

These tears that I cry

Are for the lost of the buffalo

These tears that I cry…..

These tears that I cry…..