In Metaline Falls, we know not the meaning of the word “mine,” it is “ours,” — our race, the totality of our people. Ten hearts, one beat. One hundred hearts, one beat. Ten thousand hearts, one beat. We are born to fight and to die and to continue the flow – the flow of our people. Onward we will go, onward to the stars high above the mud, the mud of yellow, black, and brown.