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| Spirits Last Ride by � baldy_4 The Indian in me begs of release, So once again me and my world Can be at peace. I come soft of foot, and only Speak in my mind. Where is this peace that One would find. It is the wind in the Whispering pines. It is the cougar scream that Fades into night. O Great Grandfather, bend close to the earth, So that you may hear. Take me out of this human, To that place that is so dear. I've put on my death face, I have no fear. |