Please grant me a home where the buffalo roam
Chewing brown grass between acres of 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 parched 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 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-setting 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 then flee
Living out their dime-novel dream
Gem polished for the silver screen
Dreams that still stir in the mind of leaders
Mindful they must get theirs
Before it drifts away
