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Music

Badlands: Ballads Of The Lakota (2005)

TRACK LISTING

  • Well somewhere between the wanting and the dying

    Just beyond the thunder, of the gun

    The bones of thirsty ghosts are sad and crying

    Believing their redemption day has come and gone

    It’s a bitter pair of dice this dust of evil

    Lost and lonely kingdom, of the plains

    Well God looked down and saw a world of suffering

    And then cried out, I’m gonna give this place a name.

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Well it’s a church without a steeple

    But in the heart of its people

    Good will come again, to the Badlands

    It’s a wilderness that lies, in a broken promise land

    Where the devil and his soldiers, hang around like next of kin

    But the shadows have eyes, and I hear voices in the wind

    Telling me the second coming of the red man, is closer than it’s ever been

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Well it’s a church without a steeple

    But in the heart of its people

    Good will come again, to the Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

    Badlands

  • I went to Little Big Horn, not a single word was said

    Except one old lonely ghost said “the General’s still dead”

    The General’s still dead.”

    I asked him if any Indians, ever came to call

    He said the last one that he’d seen, rode off with big Chief Gall

    Rode off with big Chief Gall

    Ole Sitting Bull once told me, on this very ground

    He saw blue coat pony soldiers, falling upside down

    Falling upside down

    There was not a single leaf on a cottonwood tree

    They were gone as the men of the 7th Calvary

    7th Calvary

    I stood on Calhoun’s Hill, rain fell like shattered glass

    I felt 12,000 solders blood flowing through the grass

    Flowing through the grass

    I saw 100 years of Indians, dancing in the sun

    I felt the Indian power. The battle is still won

    The battle is still won

    When they shot him through the heart, I wonder if it hurt

    They left Mrs. Custer’s husband to die there in the dirt

    Die there in the dirt

    Then a soldier came, and took me to the train

    He said “Custer’s still in Hell, boy, forget you ever came

    Forget you ever came.”

    I went to Little Big Horn, not a single word was said

    Except one old lonely ghost said “The general’s still dead

    The general’s still dead.”

  • There was an esteemed Lakota elder

    A man of visions, who laid dying at his home

    Surrounded by his family and friends

    His journey on this earth was fast coming to an end

    One by one, they touched his hands, stroked his silver hair

    Sang him songs and kissed him on his brow

    His mind wandered between this world and the unseen

    Some thought it was the fever talking

    But his sister, knowing his gift of visions

    Summoned the Medicine man to come and pray for his comfort

    And to listen to his words

    When he arrived, the elder asked the Holy Man to bring him his pipe

    A family member handed the Medicine Man his pipe

    And he granted the dying man’s request

    When he placed it in his arms, he closed his eyes

    And softly whispered

    “Twenty years from this day, I see blood and countless tears

    Flowing across the ground of Wounded Knee

    It is not clear to me why so many people will die

    Not only our warriors, but our women, our children,

    The young and the old, even the four leggeds

    They too will be murdered

    All will be buried as one in an icy cold grave

    There will be no punishment to the murders of our people

    Only the dreams they see at night will be their torture

    And their sentence of shame

    This is my vision

    My time has now come and I have but one final request

    When I draw my last breath

    Take me to Wounded Knee, and bury me there

    For it is there that I wish for my spirit to linger

    Long enough to warn the others of this great tragedy that

    Our future holds.”

  • Big Foot do you hear me, my vision’s growing dim

    Tell the Holy Father, that I must talk to him

    Every breath I take, draws me closer home

    When I cross that river, will I be alone

    Won’t you take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Where the spirit can be found. There’s power in the ground

    The wind will set me free at Wounded knee

    Behold I see a canyon where many souls will die

    Behold I see a world that will always wonder why

    Tell me ole Red Cloud, this vision in my head

    I see 300 soldiers, am I alive or am I dead

    Won’t you take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Where the spirit can be found. There’s power in the ground

    The wind will set me free at Wounded Knee

    Quickly my old friend, look into my eyes

    The past is slowly fading and the future’s in disguised

    Before I leave this earth, sing me one more song

    And when you hear me laugh, then you’ll know that I am gone

    Won’t you take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Take my body down to Wounded Knee

    Where the spirit can be found, there’s power in the ground

    The wind will set me free at Wounded Knee

    Wounded Knee

    Wounded Knee

    Wounded Knee

    Wounded Knee

  • Big Foot was an Indian chief

    Of the Minneconjou band

    A band of Minneconjou Sioux

    From South Dakota’s land

    Big Food said to Custer

    “Stay away from that Crazy Horse”

    But Custer crossed into Sioux land

    And he never came back across

    Then Big Foot led his people

    To a place called Wounded Knee

    And they found themselves surrounded

    By the 7th Calvary

    Big Foot Big Foot

    Rise up from your bed

    Minneconjou babies cry

    For their mothers, lying dead

    Big Foot was down with a fever

    When he reached Wounded Knee

    And his people all were prisoners

    Of the 7th Calvary

    Two hundred women and children

    And other hundred men

    Raised up a white flag of peace

    But peace did not begin

    An accidental gunshot

    And Big Foot was first to die

    And over the noise of the rifles

    You could hear them babies cry

    Big Foot Big Foot

    It’s good that you can’t see

    Revenge is being wrought

    By Custer’s 7th Calvary

    Smoke hung over the canyon

    On that cold December day

    All was death and dying

    Around where Big Foot lay

    Farther up on the canyon

    Some had tried to run and hide

    But death showed no favorites

    Women, men, and children died

    One side called it a massacre

    The other a victory

    But the white flag is still waving

    Today at Wounded Knee

    Big Foot Big Foot

    Your Minneconjou band

    Is more than remembered here

    In South Dakota land

    Big Foot Big Foot

    Your Minneconjou band

    Is more than remembered here

    In South Dakota land

  • Well an eagle flew high above Red Shirt Table

    Over Marvin Helper’s place

    As Air Force One flew President Clinton

    To Ellsworth Air Force Base

    He brought with him from Washington

    A bag filled with dreams and cake

    To spread among the poor and

    The poorest county in the whole United States

    One mile long, a big black car

    And whirleybirds did a jig

    As they moved across the prairie

    To the planet of Pine Ridge

    Where the FBI and the CIA,

    The AIM, the BIA, the IRS and GOD

    All had their eyes set on the master plan

    But it all turned out to be, just another shattered dream

    In a broken promise land

    The president said to the people

    We know the failings of the past

    You’ve been patronized, tyrannized

    But help Is here at last

    Our nation, she is mighty,

    These are good and prosperous times

    I offer you an America where no one is left behind

    Your courage leads to commerce,

    prosperity and loans

    I see housing for the homeless

    coz everybody needs a home

    Majestic people of the plains like you

    deserve Security

    As founders of our country

    You’ve already paid for the land of the free

    Where the FBI and the CIA,

    the AIM, the BIA, the IRS and GOD

    All have their eyes set on the master plan.

    But it all turned out to be, just another shattered dream

    And a broken promise land

    Well the prez on the res sold some powerful words

    Of how the native life should be

    He watered the spirits of the people

    The crop came up dust and wheat

    And in the distance of the harvest

    The only thing that changed

    Was the color of the leaves on the hawthorn trees

    The rest is still the same

    In July 1999, the president went door to door

    Staring down the barrel of the cold hard truth

    On his American poverty tour

    Pine Ridge, South Dakota

    Was to be empowered on command

    But it all turned out to be

    Just another shattered dream

    And a broken promise land

  • They built a casino, out under the stars

    With neon lights blinking, on tired rusty cars

    Card sharks take my money, whiskey puts me in jail

    An oasis of misery, I know it so well

    I pawned my last silver, it sparkled and shined

    And a beautiful ring, from the Black Hills gold mines

    A hole in my pocket, that money did burn

    A loser beyond, the point of return

    My woman couldn’t take, my Friday night ways

    She left me in search of, her better days

    Now I’m tortured by silence, and being alone

    And the shadows of evil, that inherit my bones

    So it’s back to the place, where I gamble on hope (I’ve gambled all hope)

    My name once respected, is now but a joke

    As I stumble back home, I murmur a prayer

    I can’t help but wonder, is God really there

  • So you want to be an Indian, an original American

    Ride a horse, wild and free, put war paint on your skin

    You think my life’s a story, like a movie on TV

    But if you want a taste of Hell on earth,

    Come hang around with me

    So you want to be an Indian, out where the buffalo roam

    A peaceful place on planet earth, that you can call your home

    Where streams of crystal waters, once flowed with red man’s pride

    But they’ve disappeared like forgotten dreams

    That have gone away and died

    So you want to be an Indian, living on the land

    That was stolen from our grandpa by dear old Uncle Sam

    Who sent soldier after soldier, to tell us what was right

    But politicians nor their armies, can turn an Indian white

    So you want to be an Indian, can you say “poverty”

    If the great white hope in Washington, would send what belongs to me

    I’d have blankets in the winter

    I wouldn’t have to be so cold

    And have something to eat besides government cheese

    To feed my hungry soul

    So you want to be an Indian, a noble honored chief

    And try to walk a holy road, in dignity and peace

    Hold the vision of America in the palm of your hand

    And watch the free world pass you by

    And not give one single damn

  • Blackbirds flying, through the darkness

    Shooting stars, out in space

    Unseen spirits, like phantoms hover

    Like cherub bells from the holy place

    Over trees, that died in fire

    Lifeless forms, on a mountain range

    A land that knows, so many secrets

    Keeper of the, a billion names

    Step by step, I see my shadow

    My true soul, walks with me there

    I shed my tears, I climb this mountain

    As I go walking, through the prayers

    Some have prayed, a prayer for freedom

    Some beg mercy, for their pain

    Some have shared, life’s dreams and visions

    When they came down, they weren’t the same

    Step by step, I see my shadow

    My true soul, walks with me there

    I shed my tears, I climb this mountain

    As I go walking, through the prayers

    Majestic form, atop earth’s mesa

    The rocks bear witness, to the truth

    As I kneel down, and lift my spirit

    To the holy wonder, at Bear Beat

    I shed my tears, I climb this mountain

    As I go walking, through the prayers

  • In a 4 by room at Pine Ridge, on a cold December day

    A spirit come down from the heaven world to take Red Cloud away

    Mary and Jesus and the stars and stripes, looked down on his bed

    Women brought snow in off the ground, to cool his fevered head

    When the dust of his wars rolled in from the past,

    Like storm clouds gathered from time.

    He knew his day on earth had come, to make his peace and die

    He raised his hand for mercy, surrendered his last breath of life

    Then six white horses came into the room, and took him to the sky

    Where he stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity

    God said “Hello, Red Cloud, now say what you will to me.”

    Red Cloud said, “I hope the great heavenly father who looks upon us

    Will give all the tribes his blessings that they may go forth in peace

    And live in peace all their days.

    And that our Heavenly Father will look upon our children as his children

    That all tribes may be his children.

    And as we shake hands today on this broad plain, may we forever live in peace.

    Now my sun is set. My day is done.

    Just like the book says from the days of old, no cross, no crown.

    At the end of the life, at the setting sun, we lay our burdens down.

    We lay our burdens down.

    When Sitting Bull laid down to sleep, he didn’t know when the mornin’ come

    That red tomahawk and police force, armed with blazing guns

    Would storm into his cabin and drag him from his bed

    Throw him in the yard like a mangy dog where he was shot and left for dead

    Murdered by McLaughlin’s men, he never even had a chance.

    All because he stayed true to the ghost in his heart and wouldn’t give up the dance.

    His horse started spinin’ and twirlin’, the world went round and round

    Everybody saw Sitting Bull’s body but his soul was nowhere to be found.

    He stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity.

    God said, “Hello Sitting Bull, now say what you will to me.”

    “You made me an Indian and I thank you, but Father now I ask you

    What treaty have the Sioux made with the white man that we have broken.

    Not one

    And what treaty has the white man ever made with us that they have kept

    Not one

    Is it wrong for me to love my own and defend them?

    Is it wicked for me because my skin red or because I am a Sioux?

    I gladly died for my people. And my country because I am an Indian.”

    Just like the book said from the days of old, no cross, no crown.

    At the end of the life, at the setting sun, we lay our burdens down

    We lay our burdens down.

    In a jailhouse in Nebraska, it was on September 5,

    Crazy Horse was fighting hard to keep himself alive.

    He screamed just like a panther, at the sight of a guardhouse door,

    Stabbed in the back by a soldier’s dagger, Crazy Horse fell down on the floor.

    He was the last warrior standing, defending the old way of life.

    Where mountains sing and ponies run, like smoke from the sacred pipe

    Touch the Clouds took his body, back home to his family,

    Nobody knows where they laid him down, to set his spirit free

    He stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity

    God said, “Hello Crazy Horse, now say what you will to me.”

    “Upon suffering. Beyond suffering. The Red Nation shall rise again.

    And it shall be a blessing for a sick world.

    A world filled with broken promises. Selfishness and separations.

    A world longing for light again.

    I see a time of seven generations when all of the colors of mankind

    Will gather under the sacred tree of life.

    And the whole earth will become one circle again.

    And that day, there will be those among The Lakota,

    Who will carry knowledge and understanding of unity among all living things.

    And the young white ones will come to those of my people and ask for this wisdom.

    I salute the light within your eyes, for the whole universe dwells

    For when you are at that center within you,

    And I am at that place within me,

    We shall be one.”

    Three men, three warriors, good and noble chiefs.

    Prophets to their people, may they rest a while in peace.

    Their words echo like thunder through the canyons at time.

    And shine like a flaming arrow in a world, in a world

    The truth is hard to find.

    No cross, no crown

    No cross, no crown

    No cross, no crown

  • Should you go out today, to reservation land

    Look into the eyes, of the first Americans

    Three hundred years of suffering, is what you’re gonna find

    If you believe the time has come for healing, Step on your side of the line

    I see the face of a child, whose time is drawing near

    Born to lead the people, to new waters that are clear

    Guided by the Holy Spirit, everywhere he goes

    To finish what was started, on the ancient Red Man’s road.

    The prophecy’s spoken, the past, shall be fulfilled at last.

    As we listen to the children, listen to the children

    Listen to the children

    Listen to the children, listen to the children

    Listen to the children

    In the Badlands, Badlands, Badlands, Badlands

    Badlands, Badlands, Badlands, Badlands