Big Sky, MT

My grandfather, he picks wildflowers
At the top of the hill up on the mountainside.
And he knows their names by their colour, shape, and their
Size.
Up over the ridge and through the valleys,
Picking flowers by the riverside.
My grandfather, he picks shooting star and prairie smoke
Where lily-of-the-valley grows.
Purslane and Queen Anne's beauty
Bathing in the oft glow.
Up over the ridge and through the valleys
To find early everlasting in the light.
Oh, for true love...
For true love, he said,
"For true love, you do the best that you can,
And she will always be there when you wake up."
Up over the ridge and through the valleys,
Picking flowers by the riverside.
My grandfather was a fisherman.
No fish ever stood a chance
When he was standing on the riverbed,
With a fistful of cutthroat on the sand.
My grandfather was a good man
And for a good life he gave thanks,
Picking flowers for his true love;
For Queen Anne, on the riverbank.
My grandfather taught me there,
If you show true love, that you can take care of her,
Then when you wake up, she'll always be there by your side.
My grandfather picks wildflowers
At the top of the hill up on the mountainside.
And he writes the names in the back
Of his Rocky Mountain Wildflowers Field Guide.
Up over the ridge and through the valleys,
To find true love everlasting in the light.
Oh, for true love.
For true love, he said,
"For true love, you do everything you can,
And she will always be there when you wake up."
My grandfather taught me
That picking flowers is worthwhile
When you're doing it for your true love
And when you see her smile,
It's like big skies, shooting stars.
Where we are...
Where we grow...
Roots of neverending light,
High up on the mountain...