The bitterroots bloomed on the first day of spring
I should’ve known that they’d ruin everything
You weren’t still a boy but you weren’t yet a man
Trying to make sense of this God-awful land

Hard words were spoke on a late April night
We got in the whiskey and we got in a fight
So you took the Chevy and the sawed off shotgun
Drove up the pass like a thief on the run

Now I’m troubled in mind
And I’ve always been the jealous kind
But I’d let go of my pride
If you’d cross the divide

I wouldn’t think you any less of a man
Were you to rot in a whorehouse on the streets of Cheyenne
Or cooking up meth down in Laramie
I don’t give damn boy just come home to me

There’s this plastic bag on an old barbed wire fence
I’ve watched it for days and I’m trying to make sense
But twist as it might it can’t shake itself free
And I can’t figure out if it’s you or it’s me