You come to their graves with greed in mind.
It's only an Indian that's been dead a long time”.
You take your shovel and dig in down deep.
And your ears are deaf to the spirits that weep.

Oh the things in this burial you've found!
A pipe! Arrowheads inside this mound!
A necklace with beads made of bone and rock!
Just imagine the stories if these things could talk.

These sacred items from this grave you steal.
You let greed convince you it’s no big deal.
You’ll contact some collectors to check and see
What the black market bid for this stuff would be.

The Historical Society is soon on the way
To remove the bones for public display.
Ripping them out of Earth Mothers womb
Just to be placed inside a glass tomb.

Or tossed on a shelf inside boxes and bags.
Cast aside like trash or old worn out rags.
Spirits angered, cries flow with the wind.
When will this desecration ever end?

Your graves are protected by government laws.
But ours become part of highways and malls.
And then the idea called imminent domain
Was used as excuses for these actions of shame.

What would your feelings towards me be
If I dig up your grandmother’s bones to see
If she had diamonds upon bands of gold
And to antique dealers they’d quickly be sold?

I’ll build a museum on pioneer history.
Unravel questions, solve a big mystery
Of methods and techniques they used to survive
And the foods they ate to keep them alive.

I’ll display their frail bones inside of glass cases
And from clay make statues with blank staring faces.
At the entrance I'll charge you a dollar or two
To come and walk through my desecration zoo.

What? You say this is a horrendous crime?
If I dig in your graves I’ll have to serve time?
What makes me think I can act this way
To disturb the places where your ancestors lay?

What’s the difference between us and them?
We all return back to the earth in the end.
We know about how our ancestors lived too.
Just ask us these things and we’ll gladly tell you.

Your graves aren’t more special or sacred than ours
Just because some are fenced inside metal bars.
Let us put back our people where they belong.
And together work on things going wrong.

Digging and stealing, you won’t profit from greed.
The sickness consumes you wanting more than you need.
And what you call progression for the betterment of man
Is killing what we need to survive on this land.

Spirits restless, cries heard in the wind.
When will this desecration ever end?

© Spirit Bird 5/20/2005-Revised 5/12/2006

Music is "Buffalo Dance" by Elan Michaels