1. You spent that money, drove all those miles.
Finally arrived, didn’t seem worthwhile.
You’ve read some nature poems dripping with ecstatic metaphor.
Maybe that’s why you say you just expected more.
You don’t hate it. You’re not saying it’s not pretty.
But it seems like everyone’s offended ‘cause you’re not giddy.
When you compare your mental image of the Grand Canyon
To the real one, the real one’s like a cheap stand-in.
You start thinking maybe it really is a tragedy
You’re not appropriately awed at purple mountains majesties.
Apologetic, frustrated, trying to explain.
Less concerned that you weren’t blown away by the fruited plains.
Gazing at the scenery with a pained expression,
Your mind keeps wandering in mundane directions.
You thought The West would sweep you up, gripping your imagination,
But it hasn’t happened yet and you’re getting impatient.

Chorus: You thought the mountains would be bigger, the canyons would be deeper.
Thought the entry fees, concessions, and the t-shirts would be cheaper.
How you supposed it would occur there’s no telling,
But you thought you’d find the essence of the West overwhelming.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
No one’s fault, just not that impressed with the West.

2. You think each new waterfall looks like the last one.
How do these people keep mustering the passion
To ooh and aah, exclaiming over every single view?
You nod your head acknowledging that yeah, you see it too.
You wonder how long you’ve got to look before you’ve seen it.
You could take another picture, sure, but you’re thinking, do you need it?
One more digital image of a distant dot.
Tell your friends you think there’s an elk in this shot.
No hiking, no climbing, barely leave the vehicle.
The view through the windshield is just as meaningful.
Meander through the visitors center reading the plaques:
Weather patterns, tundra types, species, and habitats.
If you’re not feeling it, you’re not gonna fake it.
You hate being a hater but figure Nature can take it.
It was here before you, it’ll persist long after,
So your miniscule opinion will forever not matter.

Chorus (x2): You thought the mountains would be bigger, the canyons would be deeper.
Thought the entry fees, concessions, and the t-shirts would be cheaper.
How you supposed it would occur there’s no telling,
But you thought you’d find the essence of the West overwhelming.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
But you didn’t. It just didn’t do it for you.
No one’s fault, just not that impressed with the West.

3. You feel guilty because you feel bored
Standing with a group of gawkers watching eagles soar.
You can understand why some people like it,
But you thought that the West would be more enthralling.
The night time is quiet and dark: a true statement.
Not trying to be funny, but so is your basement.
You can understand why some people like it,
But you thought that the West would be more thrilling.
If the Land has something profound to impart,
Then it should do it already, you’ve waited days for it to start.
You can understand why some people like it,
But you thought that the West would be more inspiring.
The West doesn’t need you, doesn’t want your validation,
Never volunteered to be the site of your dream vacation.
You can understand why some people like it,
But you thought that the West would be overwhelming.