Tomorrow's Rain

Indians and trappers now have parted, The trading post’s a ghost-town in the sand; I wonder if they saw it when they started How they’d lose their freedom and their land? The open range is prisoned now with fences, There’re no more antelope left to kill, The sound and smell of rawhide leaves your senses, Now the cowboys work down at the mill. The rivers that we used to swim are flowing As muddy like the color of the sky, The birds that used to gather here are going North to find a cleaner place to fly. But what’s the use of standing softly singing, There’s nothing really changed by one more song, Tomorrow’s getting closer and it’s bringing, Showers that are overdue too long. Everybody knows the frontier’s faded, Everybody says it’s worth the gain, No one sees the paradise we’ve traded Now is melting in tomorrow’s rain.