Elton John - Indian Sunset - BBC Sounds For Saturday / 29th April 1972

The next song is a song, uh, written Is a story, it's not a protest song Which many people think it seems to be This is a story about Indians And is called "Indian Sunset" As I awoke this evening With the woodsmoke slowly 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 Oh, 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 Oh, 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 buffaloes 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