The Wild of the West

When the sun sinks down, between the heaven and the ground,
on these wide, open places that I love.
When I take a minute to feel the world and me in it, I thank that heaven above.
And I squint my eyes with a tear of a surprise and I stop and let myself feel small.
‘Cause it’s all here...my own wild frontier.
Aren’t we all pioneers, after all? Aren’t we all pioneers after all?
And I need this wilderness like I need cool water or a lover’s caress.
And I did not decide, I just know that the wild of the West is in my soul.
There are those out there who need space, not just air,
and the wild western wind calls their name.
In a land that’s free, this is where I choose to be.
There is no better place than nowhere. There is no better place than nowhere.
And I squint my eyes with a tear of a surprise and I stop and let myself feel small.
‘Cause it’s all here...my own wild frontier.
Aren’t we all pioneers, after all? Yes, we’re all pioneers after all.