On fan of golden hair
Oiled with rose and cinnamon
As your blood bloomed poppy red
Across your velvet coat
Your deep blue velvet coat
Its there in Montana prairie gra**
The Sioux shot Custer down
His red scarf tied, his black boots shined
How beautiful he looked to the flies
The happy kingdom of flies
Dear Custer theres a Wal-Mart now
Where once the grizzlies roamed
Mountains of hair spray and cowboy shirts
And everyone has a gun
Everyone still has a gun
But high in the rafters above the lights
Red finches, they hide their nest
And when our cars drive out of sight
They sing symphonies across the night
In that forest of heating pipes
And out past the parking lot along the curb
In the wilds of weed and trash
Prayed on his love, the smallest ants
Fight battles for the glory of the queen
Such a tiny, glorious queen
But even the empress of the ants
For whom ten thousand fall
Makes not a sound beneath the blades
Of our great empire of lawns
How quiet is the empire of lawns