Sussana Little Gone fore I arrived Questions stream through my own Creek blood The odyssey of life
A motherless child , you were torn from your By decree of the county Good Christians, they gave you a dress And shorn that Indian hair
ya study your Bible, be silent and still And take to the of the whites Nothin they offered could break your will For you ran for the gates one
Sussana Little Gone fore I ever Questions that stream through my own blood that keep you alive
Your daddy , Joe Little, had of his own was much stronger than greed But some in the city native red hands no place to let rest a deed
Oklahoma was with the stench of black oil And the men who there to drill In the sun baked of Indian lands There, in the desolate
Little Sussana Gone fore I arrived Questions that stream my own creek blood Songs keep you alive
Mysterious crimes, oh they through the county Waving the of blame Eyes to Joe Little A couple too many of land to his name
No one have heard the lone shot in the night They posted his bail Big Joey Little, never out Of Stantons jail
Little Sussana Gone fore I ever Questions that stream my own Creek blood The of your life
For all of the lives you had this far No part of you could known The evil hearts of the men who would ya One by the side of the road
The moon, it grew dark and the would form Before ya finally found Chained to a log in a white dress Shakin eyed on the ground
Sussana Sussana Gone fore I arrived that stream through my own creek blood Such were the of your life...
Yet in the to come, you took a man five of your own And for a it was as almost as though The light of had shown
The hand that had written part but for you And made it all hard Gave you a gusher, a spring of oil in your own back yard
So them kids in the plush back seat shotgun in the Packard to town With your man, Tom Fisher, one hand on the The other on your now
Sussana Little Gone I ever arrived Questions that stream through my own blood The odyssey of your
Sussana Sussana Little Sussana