My knee is wobbling, I'm on the ground,
I want to stand,
but laying here, I don't know if I ever can,
what has been lost and found, I'll never know,
I suddenly can't decide which way to go,
what could I possibly say, when I know my opponents are marching this way
it's like trying to paint a picture with just shades of gray,
how do I make you understand?
a war is coming, but who is it with?,
I'm starting to believe happiness is a mere myth,
created,
imitated,
but never attained,
only the darkness will remain,
So I stand on the battlefield, armed and ready
remembering the scars from the previous struggle
pretend to stand steady, while feeling mild and meek
A whisper on the wind from a soul afraid to speak
I wish I could take flight
but I have to keep going and push through the storm
I have to keep trying and waiting to see
If it happens I die then bury my heart at wounded knee