 This land belonged to me, it was my life, and when I had it, I never needed your moldy flower, your stinking pork. Sometimes I was stiff with agents who spoke to me as if I knew less than a child. But before most of you were born, I hunted Buffalo over this place where he put this building, and a white man ate the meat I gave them. I was free, and the smallest person in my band was as free as I am, because the only one that had given us our place on earth was good enough for us. What you have taken our inheritance, our strength, our land is torn up, black with fires. You have done this, you have done this, but left now. I thank you, I thank you for giving me life, for giving me everything to live, for being still here. Now that my teeth are worn out. This last thing, I think it's like the first I asked you, long ago. But maybe you forgive me for that, since you already know how hard it is for me to understand, to learn anything. Even at all the time you gave me, I ask you again.