But the big guns and the wagon wheels come
In the morning on the fields of green
Oh, in the homeland we've never seen
And the Astrodome and the first tepee
The taxis run across my feet and my eyes have turned to blanks
Yeah, with an Indian rug and a pipe to share
Yes, and the night falls on the setting sun
They killed us in our tepee, they cut our women down
And the homeland we've never seen
They massacred the buffalo, kitty corner from the bank
Yes, and maybe Marlon Brando will be there by the fire
Oh, Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and me
In my little room at the top of the stairs
They might have left some babies cryin' on the ground
To sleep with Pocahontas and to find out how she felt
We'll sit and talk of Hollywood and the good things there for hire
I wish I was a trapper, I would give thousand pelts
From the white man and the fields of green
