Big children most of them polite firm opinionated
Unforgiving comfortable settled thankful scared
Always saying sorry an interesting word is that
Sor So sorry for being at all here guilty for past sins
What is my connection to you Canada Can I Da
In Ireland your da is short for daddy father man
I wonder is that why so many woman die here
Ireland grew many people and they were exported
Starved first the original boat people green mouth
What else could one eat except the grass growing
To stave of the great hunger HOLOCAUST hunger
I am not polite I am not sorry or unforgiving either
Kanata sparks place to the sky yes a stairway to
Heaven Canada is a stairway to the great heavens
It is such a small place really compared to Africa
A land there used to be more buffalo than people
Canada is cold icy and minus in temperatures below
The people live in igloos under the snow healthy yes
No not healthy nor right nor sorry none of these things
Enduring sent by missionaries and soldiers with guns
Pioneers in disguise
Natives
Paul DoranCapo on first fret
A E A
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
A E F#m
For all of our native tonques we’re all natives here
E F#m A
Sons of their fathers dream the same dream
E F#m
The sound of forbidden words becomes a scream
D E
Voices in anger, victims of history
F#m E A
Plundered and set aside grown fat on swallowed pride
With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives
Missionaries and pioneers are soldiers in disguise
Saviours and conquerors they make us wait
The fishers of men they wave their truth like bait
With the touch of a stranger’s hand innocence turns to shame
The spirit that dwelt within now sleeps out in the rain.
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
For all of our native tongues we’re all natives here
The scars of the past are slow to disappear
The cries of the dead are always in our ears
Only the very safe can talk about wrong or right
Of those who are forced to choose some will choose to fight
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
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