Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat kings have all treasures buried
And all you hear are rusty breezes
Pushing the weathervane Jesus

In his Zippo lighter he sees the killer's face
Maybe it's someone 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 his high school's dead and stark
It's a museum where we are locked in it after dark
Where the the halls are all lined all yellow, grey and sinister
Hung with pictures of our parent's Prime Ministers

Wheat kings and pretty things
Let's just see what the morning brings

Late breaking story on the CBC
A nation whispers, "We always knew he'd go free"
They add "You can't be fond of living in the past"
'Cause if you are then no way you're going to last"

Wheat kings and pretty things
Let's just see what the morning brings
Wheat kings and pretty things
Let's just see what the morning brings



Gord Downie