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Lyrics for Indian Sunset Elton John Bernie Taupin by Elton John:
| | | Artist: | Elton John |
| | Album: | Madman Across The Water | | Track: | Indian Sunset Elton John Bernie Taupin | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 62 | | | | Lyrics: | As I awoke this evening with the smell of wood smoke clinging
Like a gentle cobweb hanging upon
a painted tepee
Oh I went to see my chieftain with my warlance and my woman
For he told us
that the yellow moon would very soon be leaving
This I can't believe I said, I can't
believe our warlord's dead
Oh he would not leave the chosen ones to the buzzards and the
soldiers guns
Oh great father of the Iroquois ever since I was young
I've read the
writing of the smoke and breast fed on the sound of drums
I've learned to hurl the tomahawk and
ride a painted pony wild
To run the gauntlet of the Sioux, to make a chieftain's daughter
mine
And now you ask that I should watch the red man's race be slowly crushed
What
kind of words are these to hear from Yellow Dog whom white man fears
I take only what is
mine Lord, my pony, my squaw, and my child
I can't stay to see you die along with my tribe's
pride
I go to search for the yellow moon and the fathers of our sons
Where the red sun
sinks in the hills of gold and the healing waters run
Trampling down the prairie rose
leaving hoof tracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me I welcome with my hands
I
heard from passing renegades Geronimo was dead
He'd been laying down his weapons when they
filled him full of lead
Now there seems no reason why I should carry on
In this land
that once was my land I can't find a home
It's lonely and it's quiet and the horse soldiers are
coming
And I think it's time I strung my bow and ceased my senseless running
For soon I'll
find the yellow moon along with my loved ones
Where the buffalos graze in clover fields without
the sound of guns
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to
this young warrior comes with a bullet hole
####
Holiday Inn - Elton John/Bernie
Taupin
Boston at last and the plane's touching down
Our hostess is handing the
hot towels around
From a terminal gate to a black limousine
It's a ten minute ride to the
Holiday Inn
Boredom's a pastime that one soon acquires
Where you get to the stage
where you're not even tired
Kicking your heels till the time comes around
To pick up your
bags and head out of town
Slow down Joe, I'm a rock and roll man
I've twiddled my
thumbs in a dozen odd bands
And you ain't seen nothing till you've been
In a motel baby
like the Holiday Inn
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