Clouds
The clouds on the horizon
Are the spirits of the Bison And they bellow in the thunder With a fury at the plunder Of the masters of the plains. (Oh the pitiful remains!) The clouds on the horizon Are the spirits of the Bison. In the glory of the lightning Is the beautiful and frightening Accusation of their eyes. (Oh the sorrow of the skies!) The clouds on the horizon Are the spirits of the Bison; They are crowding, they are coming, And the Warriors are drumming And the people of the gun Haven’t anywhere to run. From horizon to horizon Sweeps the triumph of the Bison, He has put his mighty shoulder To the cataract and boulder; Men will answer for their greed In the heavenly stampede. The clouds on the horizon Are the spirits of the Bison. They will spare all those who love them, Passing harmlessly above them - But the Cities of the Plain Have to learn it all again. Wail for sons and weep for daughters Taken by the scouring waters; Rage at industry and spire Lost to earthquake, wind and fire. Ah, the spirits of the Bison Are the clouds on your horizon... |