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