The sacrament was locked in a cage,
Behind three locks actually,
To keep people out,
And protect that which is taken to extinction,
He was told by the department,
The one that issued the permits,
The same department that permitted,
The over harvesting for decades,
As a way to kill the native ceremony,
And make a few dollars on granfathers,
Older then the agents themselves,
The cactus handler,
The department let him save a few to remember,
What they murdered and never cultivated,
Or taught the next generation grow,
Ghost dancing children