The trail of tears began for all the Cherokee
The while men came to trade and borrow
But then they would not leave
Some of us were taken by boat and died at sea
Those of us who lived were sold to slavery
We welcomed them as brothers, knowing nothing of
Their greed, born hunters not the hunted
As the white man hunts for me
We are descendants of the animals
We live among the free
Our trall of tears would end one day at Wounded Knee
Great spirit, thunder birds fly, we are wild and free
To fight and die by the open sky, Spirit Horse ride for me
When we do the Ghost Dance, the buffalo will return
Paint ourselves for war, now blood and fire burn
Great Spirit makes us strong, take us to the sky
The Cherokee are brave, we are not afraid to die