I’m not the Indian you had in mind
I’ve heard him
Oh, I’ve heard him roar,
          the warrior wild, the video store
          the movies that we all adore
          the clichés that we can’t rewind,
But I’m not the Indian you had in mind.

I’m not the Indian you had in mind
I’ve known him
Oh, I’ve known him well,
          the bear-greased hair, the pungent smell
          the piercing eye, the startling yell
        thank God that he’s the friendly kind,
But I’m not the Indian you had in mind.

I’m that other one.
The one who lives just down the street.

          the one you’re disinclined to meet
          the Oka guy, remember me?
          Ipperwash? Wounded Knee?

That other Indian.
          the one who runs the local bar
          the CEO, the movie star,
          the elder with her bingo tales
          the activist alone in jail

That other Indian.
          The doctor, the homeless bum
          the boys who sing around the drum
          the relative I cannot bear
          my father who was never there
          he must have hated me, I guess
          my best friend’s kid with FAS
          the single mum who drives the bus
          I’m all of these and they are us.

So damn you for the lies you’ve told
          and damn me for not being bold
          enough to stand my ground
          and say
          that what you’ve done is not our way

But, in the end the land won’t care
          which one was rabbit, which one was bear
          who did the deed and who did not
          who did the shooting, who got shot
          who told the truth, who told the lie
          who drained the lakes and rivers dry
          who made us laugh, who made us sad
          who made the world Monsanto mad
          whose appetites consumed the earth,
          it wasn’t me, for what it’s worth.

Or maybe it was.
But hey, let’s not get too distressed
          it’s not as bad as it might sound
          hell, we didn’t make this mess.
It was given us
          and when we’re gone
          as our parents did
          we’ll pass it on.

You see?
          I’ve learned your lessons well
          what to buy, what to sell
          what’s commodity, what’s trash
          what discount you can get for cash

And Indians, well, we’ll still be here
          the Real One and the rest of us
          we’ve got no other place to go
          don’t worry, we won’t make a fuss

Well, not much.

Though sometimes, sometimes late at night
          when all the world is warm and dead
          I wonder how things might have been
          had you followed, had we led.

So consider as you live your days
that we live ours under the gaze

          of generations watching us
          of generations still intact
          of generations still to be
          seven forward, seven back.

Yeah, it’s not easy.

Course you can always go ask that brave you like so much
          the Indian you idolize
          perhaps that’s wisdom on his face
          compassion sparkling in his eyes.
          He may well have a secret song
          a dance he’ll share, a long-lost chant
          ask him to help you save the world
          to save yourselves.
Don’t look at me.
I’m not the Indian you had in mind.
I can’t


Most believe Indians to be old not smart and crazy out of this world wearing jean jackets jeans long hair and have feathers in there hair live in teepees