I am a white girl but what was I before?
An Onondaga opening the door
Coulda been a pilgrim hungry for to pray
Or a roaming buffalo soon to fade away
Was I a little boy hiding underground
An angry soldier sent to shoot John Brown
Might have been red clay staining tired feet
Of a broken army suffering defeat
Let me grow from these clothes
That cling so tightly to my soul
How can I justify the narrow vantage
Of these eyes
Such a good disguise, I cannot justify
A hooded demon did I wear bloody boots
Did I fall like thunder torn from ancient roots
Black wing vulture peckin heartbroke bones
Or was I an orphan born to die alone