As I awoke this evening with the smell of wood smoke 
clinging
Like a gentle cobweb hanging upon a painted teepee
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 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