War Can Be Avoided, And

We Ask To Be Recognized As Men.

We Did Not Know There Were Other People Besides The Indian Until About One Hundred Winters Ago, When Some Men With White Faces Came To Our Country.

I Know That My Race Must Change.

We Live, We Die, And Like The Grass And Trees, Renew Ourselves From The Soft Earth Of The Grave. Stones Crumble And Decay, Faiths Grow Old And They Are Forgotten, But New Beliefs Are Born. The Faith Of The Villages Is Dust Now... But It Will Grow Again... Like The Trees.

We Damaged All The Big Guns We Could, And Carried Away The Powder And The Lead.