Postcard Town

A red grade road don’t mean much to most
Higher and higher as we go
Tourists don’t drive this way they take the interstate
Pictures out their windows hotel bound

It’s a postcard town
Step out off the highway and take a look around
At a postcard town

Where the plains meet the mountains
Foothills of green and grey
Dark storm rolling in prairie smoke fades away
The river’s high this morning after days and days of rain
Look out on the basin here comes that passing coal train

Rancher with a plow soybeans ready to grow
He swears lightning’s struck him many times in a row
His fields all full of white tail deer
Hunting season they all come here
Knowing they are safe and sound