That all my silver horseman hopes rust still,
Beyond quick silver mountains,
On the plain,
The Buffalo are gone,
None left to kill.
I see the plains grow blackened with that dawn,
No robes for winter warmth
No meat to eat,
The ghost white buffalos medicine gone,
No hope for Indians then,
I see defeat.
Then there will be changes to another way,
We will fight battles that are legends long,
But of all our glory
None will stay
Who will remember
That I sang this song.
Contributed by The Lone Ranger - 2010/5/17 - 08:24