Wheat Kings

Lyrics

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 dreamy 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 bring  
Wheat kings and pretty things  
Oh, that's what tomorrow brings