in the land of non existent buffalo


how strange to be far from home in the land of houses
there are no roaming buffalo no cowboys to tip their hats
even when you are on your knees it is hard to find money growing on trees
time after time again
we found food under dead wrens
seeking land where i can build a house that would the most bit of sense
where pianos strung up from trees and whores dancing for pious men
time after time again we found water under
dead hens
the buffalo ran away arrows shooting gone awry
I wonder why i even came back to this time
when I had a family back home a thousand years wasn’t long ago

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