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Indian Sunset 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
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
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
The red man's race be slowly crushed
What kind of words are these to hear
From Yellow Dog whom white man fears
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
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
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 peace to this young warrior comes with a bullet hole
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amazing indeed.. what should we, the youth of today, do bout this matter? its up to us to make a future, not based on prehistorical misbeliefs, but based on what we think is right. one question. what would have happened if the indians won the war? would they have lived on with their normal lifes? would indian religion be one of the great religions in this world? would we have respected them as our neighbours? so many questions asked and no answers cuzz we have our present now and we dont know what to do with our future.. thats why we are asking our previous generation who has been raised on hatred and misbeliefs.. what is right?
This is a beautifully written song. The part about Geronimo was only fearful gossip between warriors, as Geronimo died in a POW camp of Pneumonia as an old man.
This song uses a little poetic licence. Geronimo was not shot in a battle, he surrendered and spent the final years of his long life living on a reservation dying of pneumonia. He made extra pocket money by autographing Indian artifacts for souvenirs to be sold to tourists. Many of those souvenirs were actually made by his underlings.
Actually, the lyrics don't claim Geronimo was shot in battle. They say "I heard from passing renegades Geronimo was dead. He'd been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead". Not necessarily what happened, just what the passing renegades were saying. A small point but a point worth mentioning.
Actually, the lyrics don't claim Geronimo was shot in battle. They say "I heard from passing renegades Geronimo was dead. He'd been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead". Not necessarily what happened, just what the passing renegades were saying. A small point but a point worth mentioning.
how does no one write about this song? it's amazing.
mmm..amazing indeed.
an absolute tune, its meaning, however, is not conveyed propley in Ghetto Gospel although that song is mixed exceptionally well and sounds good with this song
I actually bought the sheet music for this song recently, It's a good piece, but, alas, i can only play piano, and i can't do it with the full orchestra. Good song.
does anyone think that he's referring to himself as the red sun and the hills of gold are his sort of heaven? the way he words it that's how it presents itself to me
Very true ian, but to add to that what does make sense about that song? Slowed down vocals, a mixture of two people who honestly would have never worked together, and Eminems's filthy fingerprints all over it. Uggh.
Love this song, came to it via Ghetto Gospel, it also introduced me to more of Sir Elton's songs.