In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
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 war lance 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 a white man fears?
Oh, 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 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
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 war lance 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 a white man fears?
Oh, 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 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
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I was a huge Elton John fan in the seventies and have always loved this song. I think it's just straight story telling from Bernie; I don't read anything into it other than the mistraetment of native american indians from their perspective. I love the musical arrangement which helps the song flow nicely through the different passages. I take only what is mine... Now there seems no reason why... every verse in my opinion (and to borrow a phrase)is sheer bloody poetry.
Absolutely superb, storytelling at it's best. It has stood the test of time and is probably my favourite EJ song after Ticking.
@steeviec60 I agree with pretty much everything you wrote. Also my 2 favorite EJ songs. Ticking is awesome.