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Indians in town
I n d i a n s
Indians in town
Indians in town,
I n d i a n s
Indians in town
Indians in town
I n d i a n s
Indians in town
Indians in town,
I n d i a n s
I n d i a n s
An old man sits by the fire and tells an ancient story
about young boys who started on a journey
For light and food, for a good hunt, for a place to live, for a horizon
But none of them returned back
Everybody left and the old man remained here alone
Indians in town
Indians in town
I n d i a n s
Indians in town
Indians in town
I n d i a n s
Somewhere far away young men sit still
with their faces illuminated by screens
On which bodies and demons flicker and fight
for someone’s life, for a lost soul
They don’t say anything, just words that make no sense
They send messages about nothing, from nowhere and to nowhere
Then they drive their strong vehicles to kill the boredom
And they die alone – neither warriors nor hunters
And the peace pipe still burns
Scented herbs and spices
In the sky, on earth and in the sea as well
The Great Spirit watches over his creation
No, I’m not done yet, I still have enough strength
To break down the bars of this golden cage
And take my soul to the woods and rocks
Further upstream in dirty river
And there, up in the mountains, find an old man
Who guards the fire and tells stories
I would come to him, humbly and quietly
I would be silent and listening I would be silent and listening
Indians inside me, Indians inside me, I n d i a n s
Indians inside me, Indians inside me
I N D I A N S, I N D I A N S