My Country'tis of Thy People You're Dying

Now that your eyes have finally opened
 Are you wondering how they must feel?
 Those who you’ve called colorful, noble and proud
 In your school propaganda books and spoken aloud
 You never learned how they were starved in their splendor
 You asked for my comment, here I will render

 Now that the long-houses breed superstition
 You force us to send our children away
 To schools where they’re taught to despise their traditions
 You forbid them their languages, then further you say

 That American history really began
 When Europe set sail, then stress
 That the nation of leeches that conquered this land
 Are the ones more civilized than all of the rest

 And yet where in your history books is the tale
 Of the genocide basic to this country’s birth
 Of the preachers who lied, how the bill of rights failed
 How a nation of patriots returned to their earth?

 Hear how the bargain was made for the west:
 Children dying of exposure in zero degrees
 Blankets for your land, so the treaties attest
 Blankets for land is a bargain indeed

 And yet a few of the conquered have somehow survived
 Their blood runs the redder though genes have paled
 From the Grand Canyon’s caverns to craven sad hills
 The wounded, the losers,the robbed sing their tale

 The past it just crumbled, the future just threatens
 Our life blood shut up in your chemical tanks
 And now here you come, bill of sale in your hands
 And surprise in your eyes that we’re lacking in thanks

 For the blessings of civilization you’ve brought us
 The lessons you’ve taught us,the ruins that you’ve wrought us --
See what our trust in America’s brought us

 My country ‘tis of thy people you’re dying

 The pride of the sires receives charity
 We’re harmless and safe behind their laws
 My life’s to be known as your “heritage”
Even the graves have been robbed
 Our own chosen way is a novelty
 Hands on our hearts
 We salute your victory
 Choke on your blue, white and scarlet hypocrisy
 Blind, ignorant nations is all that we see

 That the eagles of war
 Whose wings lent you glory
 They were never no more
 Than carrion crows
 They pushed the wrens from their nests
 And stole their eggs
 historical whitewash-- re-writing their story

 The mockingbird sings it, it’s all that he knows
“What can I do?” say a powerless few
 With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye
 Their destruction is profiting you
 Their poverty’s profiting you