We always knew that he'd go free that's what tomorrow brings Sundown in the Paris of prairies Wheat kings have all treasures buried And you hear are rusty breezes Pushing around weathervane Jesus His Zippo lighter he sees killer's face Maybe it's someone standing a place Twenty years for nothing well that's nothing new Besides no one's interested something didn't do and pretty things Let's just see what morning brings There's dream dreams where high school's dead stark It's museum we're locked up it after dark The walls lined yellow grey sinister Hung with pictures our parents' prime ministers Wait tomorrow Late breaking story on CBC A nation whispers They add "You can't be fond living past 'Cause if are then there's way that you're gonna last" Oh