In a distant time when the windswept plains
were alive with beasts roaming wild en masse
and the wagon trails wound like lifeblood\'s veins
cross the sand cut through flowing waves of grass.
Those from the east came to prospect the earth,
Who came searching for their fortunes in gold
upon ceded ground that would never cease
to be the home of the Indian\'s birth
and lost by natives in treaties of old
When Colorado had offered them peace.
On the banks of a creek named for the sand
by the shade of an American flag
rode hundreds of savages guns in hand;
\"...I have come to kill...\" they heard one man brag.
The order was made and the guns were fired
on women and children pleading and crying
beneath a solemn white flag stained cerise.
The visions of horror never expired
as the last breaths and cries of the dying
brought eerie silence and desolate peace.
The assassins made way for scavenger
and the victims gave way to decay
while rivers of blood from the massacre
Dried slowly in the radiance of day.
...Still, history recites the same question
repeated through endless generations:
Will the evil that we do ever cease?
Why that bigotry, hate, and oppression
is not considered the worst aberration;
leaving the innocent begging for peace.