When all hope has fled the mountains
and not a human word to trust,
dust will soon become rain
to prevail against wrought window panes
For Mother Earth will seize and triumph
The sacred hoop will be cleansed
from greed and conspiring ways,
& the chains held captive
by hatred fuels of fire
will unlock to make way
for flames of goodness and love
Once Nature takes back all that she gave,
the human machines will turn to the trees
And surely then our people will prosper.
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