A Tribe Called Red, Saul Williams and Chippewa Travellers - The Virus

The people
The virus took on many shapes
The bear, the elk, the antelope, the elephant, the deer
The mineral, the iron, the copper, the coltan, the rubber
The coffee, the cotton, the sugar

The people

The germ traveled faster than the bullet
They harvest the mountains inside, protect the crops, herd the cattle

The people

The women and children were separated from the men
They're divided as a foot into the regional filters of their minds
The violence of arrogance, crawls into the air, nestles into the geospatial cortex

We are not a conquered people

Drum beats by region

I was awakened by my elder brother
The compound was on fire
Awakened by my elder brother

The compound was on fire
The compound was on fire
The compound was on fire

The missionaries never hid their perspective
Perspectives of land, but rather see us disappear
Recyclable prayers

The people
This is my body, which is given for you
The people
This is my blood

We are not a conquered people

I was awakened by my elder brother
The compound was on fire
Awakened by my elder brother

The compound was on fire

The compound was on fire

The compound was on fire

The compound was on fire

Written by:
Ian Fern Campeau, Timothy Craig Hill, Ehren Thomas, Saul Stacey Williams

Publisher:
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find