At the base of the great Gateway Arch
Where the mighty Mississippi goes by,
I was thinking of the days of Lewis and Clark,
As my eyes traveled up to the sky, And I asked the arch, way up above,
Why these men left all their comforts of home.
Were they destined to perform a labor of love?
Or, like me, did they just itch to roam. Gateway Arch. St. Louis Arch.
I wish you could bring their answers to me. My eyes came back down to the scene
Where the Mississippi flows on its march.
I tucked my weary hands in faded blue jean,
And I bid farewell to the arch. ...