A urora borealis, the icy sky at night
Paddles cut the water in a l ong and hurried flight
From the w hite man to the f ields of g reen
And the homeland we've never s een
They killed us in our teepees and they cut our women down
They might have left some babies crying on the ground
But the firesticks and the wagons come
And the night falls on the setting sun
They massacred the buffalo, kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet and my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little box at the top of the stairs
With my indian rug and a pipe to share
I wish I was a trapper, I would give a thousand pelts
To sleep with Pocahontas and find out how she felt
In the morning on the fields of green
In the homeland we've never seen
A nd maybe Marlon Brando will be there by the fire
We'll sit and talk of Hollywood a nd the good things there for hire
And the Astradome and the f irst teep ee
M arlon Brando, Pocahon tas and me
M arlon Brando, Pocahon tas and me, P ocahont as...