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The smoke rises up blue and grey
A fog that holds medicine
The spirit is strong. The story is old.
The smoke curls, i feel a sound.
The sound of drums on distand hills
Of buffalo hoofs on frozen ground
A medicine chant wailing by breezes
That have not blown for many moons, nor suns
That shine no longer on brown children
My eyes seek a vision, for old people told visions
That were not seen by eyes
But burned in the mind and mouth
Of our men who fought battles, but did not win.
My body cries for strong medicine
But my eyes water from whisky
My brain bleeds- my heart sweats
I regret
That tabacco burns
And i am not strong......
Rihanna - you da one
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