Please grant me a home where the buffalo roam
Munching brown grass between the smashed chrome
Where the skies are not cloudy all day
Till brushfires burn the last wisps away

Here the air is so free, the water so pure
Radioactive lakes get touted as cures
And saucers leap through the skies
(No truth in those terrible lies)

Where natives were pressed from this part of the west
Only to return in tuxedo vests
Their parched ghetto now a casino
Where you can bet the whole farm, lose it and lie
Under a majestic blue-painted sky

Where the mountain slopes are so high
Mine-owners can’t make their cost structures fly
Hoping for gold but settling for lead
Pains you can feel when you fall out of bed

Yet mainly I miss the plains of pure bliss
Endless, diamond bright sand
Where the last standing male wins the pretty girl’s kiss
Gazing out at their sun-setting land

I long for that place of freedom and grace
A golden time of plain truths
Straight-talking, clear, honest folk
Most handsome, who quote the Good Book
Where heroes were men, men played boys and
Girls knew best to quickly abscond;
Good fought evil and always won

Not that long past those folks were all free
To sweat, freeze, starve, and flee
Living out a dime-novel dream
Gem polished for the silver screen

Dreams that still stir in the mind of leaders
Mindful they must get theirs
Before it all drifts away