Выберите трек для воспроизведения
The cold wind blows off the Pacific, been blowing for four hundred years
Carrying the sound of broken treaties, the taste of fire and our tears
They promised us the land, said they'd make it all right again
But the treaties gather dust on the shelf, and the promises wear thin
We looked out at the water, at the rock standing hard and gray
And a young voice shouted over the waves, we're going home today
They called it The Rock, a prison made of steel and stone
But we claimed it as our own, a message sent home
We are not vanishing, the cry went out across the sea
We took that empty fortress and renamed it The Island of the Free
We stood on that cold cement shore, under the watchful pale moon
We show the world a spirit that wakes up and rises soon
We packed up our sleeping bags, our elders and our books
Fourteen five million dollars for the land, nobody looks
We packed up our sleeping bags, our elders and our books
Fourteen five million dollars for the land, nobody looks
We packed up our sleeping bags, our elders and our books
Fourteen five million dollars for the land, nobody looks
It was broken, derelict and useless, with no water and no heat
And we said, by your own law, this land is ours, this defeat is sweet
It was eighty-nine hungry souls standing tall in the salt wind breeze
Holding to the eighteen six-gate Fort Laramie Treaty, demanding ease
We were Mohawks who shined in hope of all nations in the fight
We were simply saying we exist and we demand our life
They called it The Rock, a prison made of steel and stone
But we claimed it as our own, a message sent home
We are not vanishing, the cry went out across the sea
We took that empty fortress and renamed it the Island of the Free
We stood on that cold cement shore, under the watchful pale moon
We showed the world a spirit that wakes up and rises soon
Oh, for nineteen months we held the lattice, against the cold and the dark night
Facing the pressure from the outside, just standing up for what is right
Though the water and the power fell, then the government pushed back
The fire in our hearts never dimmed, we stayed steady on the track
They may have sent the federal marshals to take the land away
But the seed of resistance was planted, and it grows stronger every day
They called it The Rock, a prison made of steel and stone
They called it The Rock, a prison made of steel and stone
But we claimed it as our own, a message sent home
We are not vanishing, the cry went out across the sea
We took that empty fortress and renamed it the Island of the Free
We stood on that cold cement shore, under the watchful pale moon
We showed the world a spirit that wakes up and rises soon
The Rock stands empty now, but the people remain
Yeah, the free bird flies