With thanks to the gods of the sky
A hunter's obsidian bladed dagger
Was used to began to skin the hide
Their family as one gathered food
All labored, all worked in the tribe
As hunters prepared a next harvest
No one had a choice of work to do
All worked to live, or turn to dust
No group voice, they didn't decide
But to demands of life without law
Or by a cause born by for the tribe
And as a unit they worked to live
