Wheat Kings

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 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.