The Inferiors

We are all savages
Seen through the eyes of our culture
From the eyes of the Union soldier
To the eyes of the Indian Chief
Both know there is no ending
To the killing
To the blood
That is coming

For progress is a virus
It presses hard across the prairie
Where once there was nature
There will be shanty towns
Saloons and Whores
Men murdered, dirty and poor
Death will spring up along the rails
To bring Jesus to the inferiors

For we are all inferior to someone
From the eyes of the immigrant
Who once worked as a slave
From the eyes of the black man
Who is free on paper only
To the Confederate soldier
Who searches for a new identity
To the railroad financier
Who owes the banks
Who sows the seed

Thinking there is no end
To the land we need
There is no turning back
So many broken backs laying track
Connecting East to West
With no regulation

To one day clog the veins of a new nation