Wildflowers from Wildflowers by Jonathan Byrd

I'm going down to the railroad tracks and see if I can hitch a ride on the 939.
You don't know; I might never be back. I'll see you in that town all the way at the end of the line.

Wildflowers bloom every spring, every spring
even in the high desert sun.
I hear your voice when a bluebird sings.
I see your face on everyone.

Arkansas was wet and gray. After a rain, you know the fields in the delta really shine.
Every drop's a reminder of the silver tears in the eyes of the girl I left behind.

Wildflowers bloom every spring, every spring
even in the high desert sun.
I hear your voice when a bluebird sings.
I see your face on everyone.

The sun has risen and the sun has set. Would you believe that we are in Texas still?
Blooms to the east and a fire to the west, the painted plain with nary a valley nor a hill.

Wildflowers bloom every spring, every spring
even in the high desert sun.
I hear your voice when a bluebird sings.
I see your face on everyone.

California, here I come. The western sun is no closer than when I begun.
I've been chasing this foolish dream and now I am the fool to have left my one and only one.

Wildflowers bloom every spring, every spring
even in the high desert sun.
I hear your voice when a bluebird sings.
I see your face on everyone.

• Americana
• Country
• acoustic
• folk
• songwriter
• Chapel Hill