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
It's as plain as day to see
That change has finally come
Now the Indian paintbrush is in bloom again
The prairie's burning up in red and green
It breaks my heart to think that my son
Might not ever get to see
The Indian paintbrush come in bloom again
Then the Indian paintbrush paints me blue again
Now the sun is sinking down on
What's left of the western front
What used to seem so sacred
Now don't matter all that much
The train tracks cut a trail of scars
They bring near what should stay far away
Yeah, there's some things you and me weren't made to touch
Like the Indian paintbrush that's in bloom again
The prairie's burning up in red and green
It breaks my heart to think that my son
Might not ever get to see
The Indian paintbrush come in bloom again
Then the Indian paintbrush paints me blue again
Now the Indian paintbrush is in bloom again
The prairie's burning up in red and green
It breaks my heart to think that my son
Might not ever get to see
The Indian paintbrush come in bloom again
Then the Indian paintbrush paints me blue again