Go west, young man, where mountains meet the sky,
Where rivers run beneath the open sun;
Go seek the roads that stretch toward worlds unknown,
And chase the distant horizon as it flies.
Go where the restless wagon trails lie,
Where fortune waits for those who dare and roam;
Go build a life and call the frontier home,
And leave behind the fields of days gone by.
But westward lies more than a promised land;
It holds the graves of those who came before,
The broken treaties buried in its sand,
The vanished trails and towns that are no more.
Yet still its winds move freely through the land—
And still the West lives on beyond the shore.