THE BROTHERHOOD OF UNITED RED NATIONS

Notes From the Underground












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ROAD WARRIORS
 
 
















Robbie Robertson on the radio, white sage in a wooden bowl.
My passengers pray that we get there safe, in my "hooptie"
which is 20 years old.
 
An elder hangs onto her seat belt, she never rode in a
car before.  She checks to make sure the door is locked,
but it don't open no more.
 
Beadwork hangs from my rear view mirror, a crack is in my
windshield, but with velour seats everything is fine so long as
we got the feel.
 
We got 3 generations, riding in my Indian car.  It doesn't matter
where we're from, but simply that we still are!
 
My paint job really looks like crap, but boy I like my load,
cause THIS IS INDIAN COUNTRY and our Warpath
is the road!
















INDIGENOUS
 
We don't know the names of your roads,
but we sure know where they go.
We don't know how you name our mountains,
but we know where they're high and low.
 
We know where the corn don't grow, but you
plant it there anyway.  When it doesn't grow
cause you poisoned the land, you don't
know what to say.
 
We know where the river flows and how
the maples grow.  How far the buffalo
travels, ask an Indian, he will know.
 
We are keepers of secrets, guardians of
the land.  We are Children Of the Sun and you
are but a man.

Unity, Preservation and Liberation for the Next 7 Generations