Words Of Fire Deeds Of Blood Robbie Robertson

Perhaps you think the creator sent you here to dispose of usas you see fit.If I thought you were sent by the creator,I might be enduced to think you had a right to dispose of me.Do not misunderstand me,but understand me fullywith reference to my affection for the land.I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose.The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who has created it.I claim a right to live on my land and accord you the privilege toreturn to yours. Brother we have listened to your talkcoming from our father the great white chief at Washingtonand my people have called upon me to reply to you. And in the winds which pass through these aged pineswe hear the moanings of there departed ghostsand if the voice of our people could have been heard that actwould never have been done.But alas though they stood around they could neither be seennor heard.their tears fell like drops of rain.I hear my voice in the depths of the forestbut no answering voice comes back to me.All is silent around me.My words therefore must be fewI can now say no more. he is silentfor he has nothing to answerwhen the sun goes down