'Broken Pottery'
Broken PotteryMixed.mp3
Native American Song
I have no dream that I can see
there’s nothing left for me to be
I am a flower in the sand
there is no shadow from my hand.
You search for something in my face
you want to learn about my race
there's nothing there for you to see
a world of broken pottery
Run through the hills,
Search on the plains,
They're gone.
Over the fields,
Nothing remains.
All gone.
Hide in the hills,
Die on the plains,
They're gone!
MUSIC - Broken Pottery
Colin Siequien © 2007
Inspired by images in a Texas Museum