By Shaney McCoy © 2009
Old Highway 70 headed me west through the black of the night
Every summer since I can’t remember when
With most of us kids piled in the back, Daddy at the wheel and a baby on Mama’s lap
You know I didn’t understand what it meant back then.
But now I feel it tug at my sleeve again and I find myself driving through the snow
Headed back to a place I learned to love long ago.
And the names on the signs call to my heart like friends from a bygone day
And the peaks in the distance rise to meet the sky
And I feel the pull of the high plains that I felt so long ago
And though the place I live lies far behind I feel like I’m headed home.
You know I’ve walked the boardwalk of an old ghost town where the wild flowers bloom now
And I’ve heard the spurs of a hundred years gone by
And if you close your eyes in the summer you can hear the cowboys sing
And in the winter you can hear the ghost riders in the sky
And though it’s green from a distance it’s rough around the edges
And it’s rich with the names of the men it’s claimed
Yet it calls me back time and time again
And though the place I live lies far behind I feel like I’m headed home