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1873 (Buffalo Diary)
Slip, The
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1873 was a very bad year for me
When all I feared just disappeared
So suddenly
They got their tickets for the train
Raised their weapons and took aim
Laughing from the railroad tracks they shot my brothers in the back
No more thunder on the ground
Birds were flying round and round
The clouds of dust we kicked up no longer could be seen
1873 was a very bad year for me
1873 was a very bad year for me
We cradled their babies
Made up their houses
Covered their feet
They took what they needed
Never took us for granted
But they were defeated when people shot at me
In 1873
Laid out in the broken sun
Rain beat on us like a drum
The rhythm of that emptiness which shot my spirit free
In 1873
1873 was a very bad year for me
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