In the Anthropocene
What does your freedom mean?
What does your freedom mean?
In the Anthropocene
All along the water, underneath the sea
Can you hear the thousand-mile melody?
Coming from a distant whale, calling from afar
Calling through the ocean channels, saying, saying:
“Can you hear me?
Hear me
Can you hear me?
Hear me”
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene
What does your freedom mean?
In the Anthropocene
Stumbling through my dreams, sailing on the sky
The voices of future beings remind me to feel
Remind me to feel, remind me to laugh and cry
The voices of future grandchildren, I hear them asking:
“What were you doing,
What have you done?
What were you doing,
What have you done?
What were you doing,
What have you done?
What were you doing,
What have you done?”
And are you alive?
And are you free?
Are you free?
Are you free?
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene
What does your freedom mean?
What does your freedom mean?
In the Anthropocene
And the ayni come back
And the sewa come back
And the air come back
And the knowledge come back
And the dances come back
And the sweetgrass come back
And the rivers come back
And the laughter come back
And the medicines come back
And the stories come back
And the power come back
And the oceans come back
And the prayers come back
And the coral come back
And the soil come back
And the tenderness come back
Elder Brother said we must remember the old ways
The dreaming of the land and the calling of the rain
We are life itself, remembering our ways
We are life itself, the dreaming of the sea
We still have time
We still have some time
Yes, we still have time
We still have some time
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene
What does your freedom mean?
What does your freedom mean?
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene
In the Anthropocene