Please grant me a home where the buffalo roam

Munching brown grass between smashed chrome

Where the skies are not cloudy all day

Till brushfires burn the last wisps away


Here the air is so free, the water so pure

Radioactive lakes get touted as cures

And saucers leap through the skies

(No truth in those terrible lies)


Where natives were pressed from this part of the west

Only to return in tuxedo vests 

Their ghetto now a casino

Where you can bet the whole farm, lose and lie

Under a majestic blue-painted sky


Where the mountain slopes are so high

Mine-owners can’t make their cost structures fly

Hoping for gold but settling for lead

Pains you can feel when you fall out of bed


Yet mainly I miss the plains of pure bliss

Across endless, diamond bright sand

Where the last standing male wins the pretty girl’s kiss

Gazing out at their sun-setted land


I long for that land of freedom and grace

A golden time of plain truths 

Straight-talking, clear, honest folk

Most handsome, who quote the Good Book

Where heroes were men, men played boys and

Girls knew best to quickly abscond; 

Good fought evil and always won


Not that long past those folks were all free

To sweat, freeze, starve, and flee 

In days when neighbors killed for a well

Where deer and antelope no longer dwelled

Living out their dime-novel dream

Gem bright polished for the silver screen 


Dreams that still stir in the mind of leaders

Mindful they must get theirs

Before it all dries up and drifts away