Cold Beer, Fresh Powder

Board in the back of my old brown truck

Frost on the glass and the chains half stuck

Breath in the air like a little white flag

Boots by the tailgate, flannel in the bag

Snow boarding and a cold beer

That’s my kind of high out here

Carving down the mountain like I stole this day

Ice on my brim, sun on my face

Laughing with the boys when we all wipe out

Crack another top, let the worries melt down

Snow boarding and a cold beer

Yeah, that’s my kind of year

Lift line long but the talk comes easy

One more run, yeah the hill’s still teasing

Goggles ring tan and my legs feel done

But that first sip hits like a second sun

Board tracks fading in a pink sky glow

Truck bed tailgate turned into a barroom show

You raise your can, say “to days like this”

Cold hands, warm heart, and a buzz like this