They might have left some babies
Will be there by the fire
But the fire sticks and the wagons come
I would give thousand pelts
In the homeland we've never seen
And the homeland we've never seen
And maybe Marlon Brando
To sleep with Pocahontas
They killed us in our tepee
Kitty corner from the bank
Like the Astrodome and the first tepee
The taxis run across my feet
Cryin' on the ground
From the white man to the fields of green
We'll sit and talk about Hollywood
And the night falls on the setting sun
Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and me
And the good things there for hire
And they cut our women down
And find out how she felt
In my little box at the top of the stairs
In a long and hurried flight
And my eyes have turned to blanks
With my Indian rug and a pipe to share
They massacred the buffalo
Paddles cut the water
I wish I was a trapper
In the mornin' on the fields of green
