Aztec

We built our cities on the water,
Where we gave our prisoners slaughter.
Shedding them of their skin and taking their hearts,
We hoped the Gods would bless us a new start.
For in every cycle of life we must confess,
Of the evils that we had made a mess.
So we sacrificed our young so that we might thrive,
But it was Spaniards that would not let us survive.
They told us to worship a man who died on the cross,
But in the end it was our tears from the sun that we was our loss.
They said they needed it for a sickness that grew like a weed,
Little did we know that sickness was greed.
We paid with our blood sweat and tears,
Now they remain her for all those years.
Our way all but lost in the sun,
Our live and prayers told to just one.
What ever wisdom we had is now gone like our ways,
Now it just Cortez we have to praise.
But in the shadow of our dieing race,
I see come of our beautiful grace.
Years when we are looked at to be only servants of the white,
We shall be recognized from our plight.
Until that day we will tell our own tale in hush,
For in life we shall walk away with flush.

Written By
Robert Lee Niswander
Copyright 2004

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