Spires of The Moon

Spires of The Moon

Their faces drift upon the smoke,
I knew I'd join them soon.
Those that walked to certain death
past the "Spires of The Moon".

The dusty road was all they knew.
All those lives were lost, but why?
Their souls were rising with the smoke,
spirits soaring in the sky.

They said it was a better place,
what they said was all a lie.
Then they led us on a journey,
one on which we all would cry.

The Cherokee fought brave and hard
in a war that lasted years.
In the end it didn't matter
Death followed the "Trail of Tears".

Tonight I'll sit by the fire
as Eagles fly high and free,
still wishing I could join my friends
from the smoke they call to me.