There's an old road that swings to the west, Out from Lehi to Five Mile Pass, Through sunflower fields, That bloom every fall, And through an ocean of prairie grass.

To most it's just another old highway, Nothing special, nothing fit to explore. But to those who would see And would listen with heart, Well, I swear it's an awful lot more!

Oh, I've driven that road, its length and its breadth, More times than I even recall. It wasn't that I needed to get there from here. Guess I drove with no purpose at all.

Except that I go out to listen, For Old State 7-3 has its song. A sweet melody, From each sagebrush and tree, For the road's dying echoes I long.

I hear the lost hoof beats of ponies, Of the Piutes who lived here, they say. And Express riders rode, Through the cedars and flats, Lonely shadows, long lost to today.

And I can hear the drummed music of soldiers, Come to keep a peace never in doubt. In the end they all fled, 'Cept the ones that were dead, To go fight for the North or the South.

Yes, I've traveled that trail, I've been there and back, One hundred times, maybe it's two! Just rambling along and enjoying the song, And the time's all but lost in the view.

So these days it's the track of new drivers- Trucks, cars, eighteen-wheelers and all. Sometimes an old tractor, Or a combine creeps by, Slowing traffic to nearly a crawl.

And some say that it's all about progress, As the neighborhoods creep steadily west. Soon the pronghorn will be gone, And the meadowlark's song, And they'll argue that it's all for the best!

But for me, nothing's changed, I'll continue to roam, Out from Lehi through the sagebrush. You see, It will take a lot more than mere progress, To destroy the road's magic for me. To silence Old State 7-3.