"third world" genre: Post Hardcore
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	this is a song about the conflicts that have gone on in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Most specifically, it is talking about the reasons Camp Justice was established last year. It is dedicated to the people of the Oglala Nation and all they have suffered at our hands.
	CD: Unreleased-- different than the album version!
	Story Behind the Song When the bodies of two more Lakota men were found on June 8th, 1999 and the law enforcement of Sheridan County Nebraska seemed to either not care, or were possibly covering up for one of their own, the people of Pine Ridge Indian Reservation demanded justice. When there was little or no investigation into the deaths of these men, nor any investigation into previous deaths of Indian people in this area, the brother of one of the slain victims, Tom Poor Bear, and others, organized a peaceful march to the town of White Clay, Nebraska, just two miles from the South Dakota border, and the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. On July 4, 1999, after many other protests, the Oglala Lakota Nation declared its independence with the development of CAMP JUSTICE. Tom Poor Bear organized and set up the beginnings of the camp, and invited others to join with him there. Tipis were erected, and the camp is situated on both sides of the "border" between the Oglala Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, and the State of Nebraska. The Oglala Lakota Oyate have stated that the camp will remain until justice is served. Lyrics Desperate Sarcasm to safe face in the morning mirror. Driving through Pine Ridge; 342,000 acres less; Driving through bomb sites. Travel through the third world; native soil genocide is back again; driving through Pine Ridge. Third world soil; southern South Dakota; bombs unexploded on Oglala farmland; and still nothing to eat. responsible injustice, america is desperate. See those smiling eyes. Hearing through their run down cries. See such acceptance, theyve been brought up with so much fear. And we sit and watch the days go by, time after time, another hungry mouth denied while we throw away so much, two more bodies unexplained, another morning mirror shame from sleeping so well or at all. Left for dead; a history rich in blood. Desolate land, farms turned to crud. A people cry, only to be denied. but only blind eyes, lets open our eyes. Another war in fearful times, more native soil genocide, how many more bodies unexplained? Morality decend into gray. WHY? WHY? WHY? Left for dead. DEATH POVERTY APATHY Desolate Land WHY? WHY? WHY? A people cry. MARCH FOR JUSTICE UNTIL JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED.

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