In the trail of the wind
This is the fifth age of the sun
In it will be earthquakes
In it will be hunger
And we will be left
In a trail of wind
Disease pushed upon the pure
From Wounded Knee And now?
The trail loosens
My children were left to suffer
In the frigid winter cold I must find my children
This is the fifth age of the sun
In it will be earthquakes
In it will be hunger
And we will be left
In a trail of wind
Disease pushed upon the pure
From Wounded Knee And now?
The trail loosens
My children were left to suffer
In the frigid winter cold I must find my children
( Words A Game )
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