Aurora borealis. The icy sky at night. Our paddles break the water. In a long and hurried flight. From the white man and the fields of green. And the homeland we've never seen. They killed us in our tepee. They cut our women down. They might have left some babies. Cryin' on the ground. But the big guns and the wagon wheels come. Yes 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 room at the top of the stairs. With an Indian rug and a pipe to share. I wish a was a trapper. I would give thousand pelts. To sleep with Pocahontas. And to find out how she felt. In the morning on the fields of green. In the homeland we've never seen. Yes and maybe Marlon Brando. Will be there by the fire. We'll sit and talk of Hollywood. And the good things there for hire. And the Astrodome and the first tepee. Marlon Brando Pocahontas and me. Marlon Brando Pocahontas and me. Pocahontas.