Sundown in the Paris of the prairies Wheat kings have all their treasures buried
And all you hear are the rusty breezes Pushing around the weathervane Jesus
In his Zippo lighter he sees the killer's face Maybe it's someone standing in the killers place
Twenty years for nothing, well that's nothing new, besides
No one's interested in something you didn't do
* Wheat kings and pretty things, Let's just see what the morning brings
There's a dream he dreams where the high school is dead and stark
It's a museum and we're all locked up in it after dark
Where the walls are lined all yellow, grey and sinister
Hung with pictures of our parents' Prime Ministers
( * )
Late breaking story on the CBC A nation whispers, "We always knew that he'd go free"
They add, "You can't be fond of living in the past
Cause if you are then there's no way that you're gonna last"
( * )