& the blinding skies bring tears to our eyes
sizing up the stars which guides on
to the unknown, the wildlands uncharted
& the wagons r loaded & runnin great
& we got our orders to emancipate
so let us get this train started.
as pioneers, weve passed many a perfect spot
but forth we must forge, ford some freshwater fjords & whatnot
& come wintertime we will hibernate, hole up in some hollow
& hide from the howling winds & hungry wolves which follow
we're hacking roads for the masses so our track has to b decipherable
& we must log every thought, clean our rifles & teach our disciples.
as pioneers, we wanna know whats on the other side of that mountain
& the soundtrack b bumpin btween our ears, to others it may be soundin
like noise & thats it, echoing off the canyons. but to us it is legit,
our music runs wild like stallions.
as pioneers we explore even though the whole world is discovered.
its a metaphor of how we write, righting the rungs as we lumber
up the leaning ladder, we lead climb for all the others
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