BeltLine Eastside Trail: The Path Remade

Lyrics

A new pulse under the pavement.
A different kind of song.
Beneath the floorboards of 691,
Where the Virginia Docks work was done.
Two lines of steel, a river of rust,
Coated in cotton and flour dust.
They carried the weight, the city's need,
Planted the industrial seed.
A low groan in the dark,
The freight train's lonely mark,
Right under our feet.
But the path is remade! The iron sleeps.
A concrete promise the city keeps.
From rust to green, the BeltLine's born,
A brand new artery for a new morn.
The engine's ghost is gone from here,
Just open sky and atmosphere.
This is the Eastside Trail we ride,
Where the Old Fourth Ward opens wide.
It was two thousand and twelve, the ground was cleared.
The old iron hum disappeared.
Now it's the whir of a wheel on the lane,
The sound of footsteps in sun and rain.
A runner's breath, a stroller's glide,
With public art on every side.
From Irwin Street to Ponce de Leon,
A future to build our dreams upon.
And the path is remade! The iron sleeps.
A concrete promise the city keeps.
From rust to green, the BeltLine's born,
A brand new artery for a new morn.
The engine's ghost is gone from here,
Just open sky and atmosphere.
This is the Eastside Trail we ride,
Where the Old Fourth Ward opens wide.
And the warehouse watches, silent and tall,
It’s seen the rise, it’s seen the fall.
It felt the shudder of the train below,
Now feels the quiet, steady flow.
The bones of the past, the ballast and stone,
Are the foundation we have grown.
Not forgotten, just remade.
A debt to the old corridor, paid.
A new pulse.
A new song.
Moving on.
Moving on.