I’m in a dust bowl era revival tent
Filled with Okies , Negroes and reservation Indians
There's an Indian preacher named six spurs
on a stage stirring up the crowd.
He Carried six spurs,
Each spur told a story Of pain and redemption
On the road to salvation
Every time he raised a spur the crowd chants
an old Ute in a feather-adorned cowboy hat
shares a pint of snake oil with me, telling me about
being forced off his land for not following the white man's god.
Outside in the dirt parking lot
Laughing kids take turns laying
in a coffin and staring up at the stars.