Sundown in the Paris of the prairies

Wheat kings have all their treasures buried

And all you hear are the rusty breezes

Pushing around the weather vane 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 is 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 gonna last".

Wheat Kings and pretty things

let's just see what tomorrow brings

Wheat kings and pretty things,

that's what tomorrow brings