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How dark is the smoke that falls from the sky |
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And soaked in our blood are the feathers of time |
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More women and children were killed on that night |
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More than they could count when they threw 'em in trucks |
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Some children were kneeling, the saints were all calm |
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Machetes and gunshots reveal all the blood |
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The papers recounted the story we know |
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Yet silence is deep as the hundreds of souls |
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And the hundreds of hopes of our people |
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Now every one's waiting and hoping for justice |
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But will there be goodness where men kill their own? |
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Our wise people say |
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That the mouth of the earth has swallowed her fruit |
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But the eagle and snake will stand for the truth |
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When the mother of corn has spoken |
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Oh axe, of our fire bring justice to life |
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For we know that power was once sacrificed |
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And it was sacrifice and it was sacrifice of our people |
