who killed the buffalo

words and music by

john greene

 

i dreamed we drove up to tacoma, my dad and me,

to find the ghost of jimi, we crashed into a tree,

now i sit at the top table, but no salesman will call today

there is no best note in a chord and the angels have all gone away

 

how can i compare myself, with those that went before

and gave up all they had to give, in old, forgotten wars

or wrote cool words of sanity, when all around were mad

and drew the face of happiness on a blood-stained pad

 

 

who killed the buffalo,

maybe it was me,

maybe it was all of us,

maybe we'll never see the way home

 

 

greed and stupidity, always dragging us down, down, down

we're moving from arrivals to, the departure lounge,

death is just another dream or so it seems to me,

but i'm not afraid of moving on in the 21st century

 

 

who killed the buffalo,

maybe it was me,

maybe it was all of us,

maybe we'll never see the way home