https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geronimo 🪦☠️🪦☠️🪦☠️🪦☠️🪦 I was born in the Mogollon where the rivers cut the stone Raised on Chiricahua land that my people called our own But the soldiers kept on coming like the seasons never stop Every treaty signed in good faith got torn up at the top The army built their forts of lies and called the desert tame I'm the ghost they couldn't capture and Geronimo's my name I ran through Skeleton Canyon with the Sierra at my back Five thousand troops behind me on a thin and broken track They called me devil, called me ghost, said I could not be caught But every man who's hunted has a final breaking thought I'm the last Apache fighting and I'll choose how this ends I won't go quiet to the reservation, not for you, not for your friends 1886, the heat lay heavy on the land General Miles sent Gatewood out to shake my weary hand He brought no chains, just words of peace, and a promise hard to trust But my people, they were starving, and the old ways turned to dust I had thirty-six souls left to feed, women, children, kin So I rode down from the mountain knowing I might never win I rode through Skeleton Canyon with the Sierra at my back Five thousand troops behind me on a thin and broken track They called me devil, called me ghost, said I could not be caught But every man who's hunted has a final breaking thought I'm the last Apache fighting and I'll choose how this ends I won't go quiet to the reservation, not for you, not for your friends They put us on a train car bound for Florida's swamp air Took the mountains from my eyes and left me only prayer They promised two years' exile, kept us prisoners 'til I died Twenty-seven years in chains for a war I never lied about, I never lied I rode through Skeleton Canyon with the Sierra at my back Five thousand troops behind me on a thin and broken track They called me devil, called me ghost, said I could not be caught But every man who's hunted has a final breaking thought I'm the last Apache fighting and I'll choose how this ends I won't go quiet to the reservation, not for you, not for your friends I'm the last free man in this country, the last one to surrender Not because I lost the fight, but to save what I remembered Let them write it in their books, I'll tell it my own way I'm the spirit of the mountains and I'm not afraid to stay When the wind cuts through the canyon and the old hawks cry my name I'm still riding through the dry wash, I never lost the game
