Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat kings have all 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 a killer's 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's 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


Wheat kings and pretty things
Wait and see what tomorrow brings


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 going to last


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

Wheat kings and pretty things
Oh that's what tomorrow brings