Prison building in the distance
Stop it I say
Cease trying to emulate the mountains
With your concrete crags.
The mountains are from God
Yours are manmade peaks
His will forever stand tall
Yours, like Troy, will fall
Damn you penitentiary
Your halogen lights attempt to rival the stars
Blasphemy, a sinner is what you are
Keeping Mother Nature out
And the poor luckless men and women in
Gulag you are destined to fall
The sun will rise on your destruction
Fingering your greasy bricks with her rays
The keepers gone home, dazed and confused
Feeling guilty, feeling soiled and used
Taken by Satan’s wiles they marched
Cuffed, beat, starved, viciously, mind-beat
Their fellow man
He raises his head and wails
Catching, billowing, pushing revolution’s sails
A movement is born on their wind
Millions together at last begin
To rebuild, to heal, to discover truth
We owe it to the people to destroy your false face
We owe it to our youth
Us Natives own this place.
January 2010
