White coats glint in the rising sun
Sabers sharp, the drums begun
But no one sees the circling fire
Or hears the ghosts in the prairie choir

He rode with pride, eyes cold and high
With dreams of stars and scalps nearby
But maps can’t mark what spirits know
The land don’t yield to stripes in rows

Brass and dust, the banners fade
The eagle falls where greed was laid
No song, no charge, just smoke and cries
And silence under open skies

The river bends, the hills stand still
They thought the land would break to will
But horses buck and rifles jam
And faith don’t shield from nature’s hand

The Lakota rose like whispered fate
Too long ignored, too late, too late
The flags were bright, the cause was pale
And legends drown when echoes fail

Brass and dust, no bugle saves
Just shallow pride and shallow graves
No glory carved, no victor’s shout
Just bones beneath the burning route

You can’t outride what you won’t learn
And steel won’t stop the land’s return
The sacred ground won’t bow to kings
And Custer died for lesser things

Brass and dust, and smoke-stained blue
A lesson lost in red and true
Don’t sing of charge, sing of the cost
The trail he chose was always lost

And where he fell, the grass still grows
But not his name — just wind that blows