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The trail of tears began for all the Cherokee The while men came to trade and borrow But then they would not leave Some of us were taken by boat and died at sea Those of us who lived were sold to slavery We welcomed them as brothers, knowing nothing of Their greed, born hunters not the hunted As the white man hunts for me We are descendants of the animals We live among the free Our trall of tears would end one day at Wounded Knee Great spirit, thunder birds fly, we are wild and free To fight and die by the open sky, Spirit Horse ride for me When we do the Ghost Dance, the buffalo will return Paint ourselves for war, now blood and fire burn Great Spirit makes us strong, take us to the sky The Cherokee are brave, we are not afraid to die