Dust kicks up, the sun hangs low,
A lone man rides where the wild winds go.
Guitar strapped tight, stories untold,
Eyes on the horizon, heart made of gold.
A broken chain swings on a fencepost bare,
The echoes of justice linger in the air.
Freedom rides on these open plains,
Dominion calls through the dust and rains.
The settlorβs hand, the birthright stands,
The rest is ours, this sacred land.
An old deed flaps where the oak roots lie,
Whispers of a promise that will never die.
Equity's shadow in the setting sun,
The land remembers what timeβs undone.
The river hums low, a song of reversion,
Carving the truth with each winding version.
Freedom rides on these open plains,
Dominion calls through the dust and rains.
The settlorβs hand, the birthright stands,
The rest is ours, this sacred land.
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