A Duck's Tune

Ya kut unta pishno ma*Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma So I moved to this place, Iowa City, Ioway Where green-headed mallards walk the streets day and night, and defecate on sidewalks. Greasy meat bags in wetsuits, disguise themselves as pets and are free as birds. Maybe Indians should have thought of that? Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma Maybe you would have left us alone, if we put on rubber bills, and rubber feet, Quacked instead of complained, Swam instead of danced waddled away when you did what you did… Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma So I moved to the Place The “Jewel of the Midwest” Where ghosts of ourselves Dance the sulphur trails. Fumes emerge continuous from the mouths of Three-faced Deities who preach, “We absolve joy through suffering.” Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma So I moved to this place where in 1992, up washed Columbus again like a pointy-chinned Son of Cannibals. His spin doctors rewrite his successes “After 500 years and 25 million dead, One out of 100 American Indians commit suicide One out of 10 American Indians are alcoholics 49 years is the average lifespan of American Indians.” Each minute burns the useful and useless alike Sing Hallelujah Praise the Lord Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma And when you foreigners build your off-world colonies and relocate in outer space This is what we will do We will dance, We will dance, We will dance to a duck’s tune. Ya kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno maYa kut unta pishno ma