Indian 77 Bombay Street

There are 10 wild horses feeding on the grass alone
Watched by an Indian, he tries to catch them all
With his eagle on his shoulder talking to the setting sun
He waits for the moment, for the night to come

Hidden in the rocks watching the horses how they run
They play in the river called Bougos Golden Tongue
Sending out his eagle to show him where to go
It takes him to a foreign land he's never been beforе

I wished I were an Indian going with thе wind
I can fly with the butterflies, no high-tech no rainy eyes
I'd love to be an Indian in Mother Nature's paradise
No CO2 in the air, I wished I was there
I wished I was there

He awakes in the morning with the rising sun
His eagle and the horses they went away they're gone
He tries to find his way back home to where he once belonged
But the world has changed into a place where something has gone wrong

I wished I were an Indian going with the wind
I can fly with the butterflies, no high-tech no rainy eyes
I'd love to be an Indian in Mother Nature's paradise
No CO2 in the air, I wished I was there