Fourth of July has come, it's custom that we go
Make our way up 108, a place we call our home
Stanislaus River's seen a heavy year of snow
I'll pick and choose my battles where I cast my fishing pole
Every year we make our way to the end of the road
The world seems to stop spinning, my father smiles
He says, "Son, when I die.
Take me up to Iceberg Meadows
Under the sun lay my remains
I will seep into Disaster Creek for years
My ash will chase that setting sun
My soul is here to stay."
Well, Boulder Creek is runnin' wild, the banks have overflowed
No swimmin' in our hole this year, spend my day skippin' stones
Skip it now
The pickup's gone to Dardanelle, grab propane for the stove
The campfire burns tradition four generations old
I carved on that bridge, one day, my name and right below
My father's name from yesteryear, etched as a child
He says, "Son, when I die.
Take me up to Iceberg Meadows
Under the sun lay my remains
I will seep into Disaster Creek for years
My ash will chase that setting sun
My soul is here to stay."
Fourth of July has come, it's custom that we go
Make our way up 108, a place we call our home
Take me up to Iceberg Meadows
Under the sun lay my remains
I will seep into Disaster Creek for years
My ash will chase that setting sun
My soul is here to stay
