I wish I’d heard them Aspen Trees sing
Back when my Grandpa was young
He said there were more Gold Eagles here
Than people two to one
They came and made the wild tame
Won the west, but lost the range
Its as plain as day to see that change finally come
the again
The prairie’s up and green
It breaks my to that my son might ever get to see
The again
the paints blue again
the sun down on what’s of the front
What used to seem sacred don’t matter all that much
The train cut of scars
They bring near what should stay far away
Yeah there somethings you and weren’t made to touch
Like the that’s again
The prairie’s up and green
It breaks my to that my son might ever get to see
The again
the paints blue again
