In a 4 by room at Pine Ridge, on a cold December day
A spirit come down from the heaven world to take Red Cloud away
Mary and Jesus and the stars and stripes, looked down on his bed
Women brought snow in off the ground, to cool his fevered head
When the dust of his wars rolled in from the past,
Like storm clouds gathered from time.
He knew his day on earth had come, to make his peace and die
He raised his hand for mercy, surrendered his last breath of life
Then six white horses came into the room, and took him to the sky
Where he stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity
God said "Hello, Red Cloud, now say what you will to me."
Red Cloud said, "I hope the great heavenly father who looks upon us
Will give all the tribes his blessings that they may go forth in peace
And live in peace all their days.
And that our Heavenly Father will look upon our children as his children
That all tribes may be his children.
And as we shake hands today on this broad plain, may we forever live in peace.
Now my sun is set. My day is done.
Just like the book says from the days of old, no cross, no crown.
At the end of the life, at the setting sun, we lay our burdens down.
We lay our burdens down.
When Sitting Bull laid down to sleep, he didn't know when the mornin' come
That red tomahawk and police force, armed with blazing guns
Would storm into his cabin and drag him from his bed
Throw him in the yard like a mangy dog where he was shot and left for dead
Murdered by McLaughlin's men, he never even had a chance.
All because he stayed true to the ghost in his heart and wouldn't give up the dance.
His horse started spinin' and twirlin', the world went round and round
Everybody saw Sitting Bull's body but his soul was nowhere to be found.
He stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity.
God said, "Hello Sitting Bull, now say what you will to me."
"You made me an Indian and I thank you, but Father now I ask you
What treaty have the Sioux made with the white man that we have broken.
Not one
And what treaty has the white man ever made with us that they have kept
Not one
Is it wrong for me to love my own and defend them?
Is it wicked for me because my skin red or because I am a Sioux?
I gladly died for my people. And my country because I am an Indian."
Just like the book said from the days of old, no cross, no crown.
At the end of the life, at the setting sun, we lay our burdens down
We lay our burdens down.
In a jailhouse in Nebraska, it was on September 5,
Crazy Horse was fighting hard to keep himself alive.
He screamed just like a panther, at the sight of a guardhouse door,
Stabbed in the back by a soldier's dagger, Crazy Horse fell down on the floor.
He was the last warrior standing, defending the old way of life.
Where mountains sing and ponies run, like smoke from the sacred pipe
Touch the Clouds took his body, back home to his family,
Nobody knows where they laid him down, to set his spirit free
He stood face to face with a mysterious form at the edge of eternity
God said, "Hello Crazy Horse, now say what you will to me."
"Upon suffering. Beyond suffering. The Red Nation shall rise again.
And it shall be a blessing for a sick world.
A world filled with broken promises. Selfishness and separations.
A world longing for light again.
I see a time of seven generations when all of the colors of mankind
Will gather under the sacred tree of life.
And the whole earth will become one circle again.
And that day, there will be those among The Lakota,
Who will carry knowledge and understanding of unity among all living things.
And the young white ones will come to those of my people and ask for this wisdom.
I salute the light within your eyes, for the whole universe dwells
For when you are at that center within you,
And I am at that place within me,
We shall be one."
Three men, three warriors, good and noble chiefs.
Prophets to their people, may they rest a while in peace.
Their words echo like thunder through the canyons at time.
And shine like a flaming arrow in a world, in a world
The truth is hard to find.
No cross, no crown
No cross, no crown
No cross, no crown
Writer(s): Marty Stuart
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