First People

I Walk under the sun;
I’m looking for him, while the eagles scream;
I follow my passion, because I need to know: where is Makawee?
Where’s my precious, my untouchable, my guide, my Cherokee
The reflection of the sun;
Shows what I’ve become;
A brave heart I see;
you knew and repeated, my son you’ll raise from the hills;
and on the top of the hill;
I saw him in my skin;