The Road Holds the Keys

Lyrics

[Intro]
A cart-path called me up in '23.
Pringle drew my first columns.
Smith signed the plans. A century of May pollen
has settled on my sills since.

[Verse 1]
I am a colonial revival on Cherokee Road.
I am American in that particular way
where the columns are white as Sunday linen
and the shutters are painted black for the seriousness of it.
I am older than the oaks
that now touch my second floor.
They grew up to meet me. I am grateful.

[Chorus]
I am a hundred-year door.
I have held weddings. I have held wakes.
I have held rainy Tuesdays with no one home
and Decembers that would not close me.
I have held what I could hold.

[Verse 2]
Hands have stripped me back to lath and built me up again.
Hands have painted the dining room red.
Hands have painted it back.
My dormers have counted a hundred storms.
My roof pitches the rain in three directions.
I keep what I can keep.

[Bridge]
Cherokee — the name that came before the road came.
I try to keep that name honest.
I try to keep a door that opens
for the next family without preference.

[Outro]
Another hundred Mays to come.
Another hundred Octobers.
I will be here. I will swing.
I will hold what I can hold.