Myriad

Look it is everywhere
The old, warning of the foretold future
Trying not to make the past repeat itself
Trying not to make their mistakes reincarnate
They took a pact with the gods putting their very existence on the line to make things right
And leave myriad of warnings for us
Warnings writing with blood
Warning writing with tears
On the sea
In the air
Battlefield
They tried
But still, our ears remained deaf
We remain nonchalant
But who is going to hear ours when we are gone?
We choose the western world
We carried their cross, leaving ours
No more is the ancestors worshipped
No more, no more is the song of praise sang to them
No more is their bravery acknowledged
Acknowledgement of what a great hunter they where
Farmers they where
Warrior they where
We choose to cut down our three
In place, putting the white man cross
And who is going to hear us? when our days are complete,
Like our ancestors, where will we place our warning?