Those good old days

Those good old days
When the cock still crowed
When the morning sky was a sight to behold
When the sun still shone
When the birds still sang
When the wind still blew
When we still had real friends
When we did not care what other people said
When we were young and naive
When we lived in the moment
When there were no telephones
When there were few televisions

The good old days
When we sat around the fire
When we listened to the Oldman
When we danced to the drums
When we celebrated our culture with pride
When the white man's root had not grown
When we were still pure
When we sat outside watching the sky
When we still had the long horned cattle
When we still gave dowry to get a bride
When we we could still have real friends
When we did not have to hide who we are
When we still used to hunt
When we used to fight like men with spears

The good old days
They are no more
We wake by the alarm
The morning sky polluted by the industries and cars
The sun now burns
The birds don't sing anymore
The wind leads a path of destruction
The friends come with benefits
Now we listen and care about what other people say
We nolonger live in the moment
We capture the moment because the phones came
And television is also available on the streets

The good old days
They are no more
Now everyone runs to their room heated by the electric heater
We look at our phones and computers all day
Now the big boxes play music
We shun our culture
The Whitman's roots have grown strong
There are nolonger pure souls
We sit and watch each other
We want more milk the longhorns are no more
We now pay the price not give gifts to get a bride
We wait at the butchers for meat
The guns came the real men are more
The good old days are no more