Sweet Auburn Curb Market: Saturday Morning Symphony

Lyrics

[Intro]
Saturday morning.
Edgewood Avenue.
Okay, old friend.
Let's see what you hold today.

[Verse 1]
Through the brick archway, same as 1924.
The air gets thick in here.
Smells like damp earth and strong coffee.
Smells like a hundred Saturdays stacked one on top of the other.
The floor hums with the shuffle of a thousand feet.

[Verse 2]
Past the pyramids of sweet potatoes,
the dark green sea of collards in their wooden crates.
The butcher's cleaver falls, a steady heartbeat on the block.
His old scales clang, a little silver bell.
We need peaches, you and I.
From that farmer down past McDonough.
He always saves me the good ones.

[Chorus]
Oh, you're getting heavier now, old basket.
Filled with voices, with the vendors' calls.
This Saturday morning symphony.
You carry more than groceries from these halls.
You carry the weight of a good life.

[Verse 3]
There's Mrs. Williams by the bakery stand, getting her pound cake for Sunday.
She asks about my mother.
I ask about her grandkids.
News travels faster here than on any wire.
This is the living paper.
This is the town square under one roof.
Three generations shopping in the same aisle.

[Bridge]
I can almost hear the wagons on the curb outside.
Horse breath in the morning cold.
John Wesley Dobbs said they had everything they needed right here.
Some things don't change.
The foundation holds.
The roots run deep under this concrete floor.

[Chorus]
Oh, you're getting heavier now, old basket.
Filled with voices, with the vendors' calls.
This Saturday morning symphony.
You carry more than groceries from these halls.
You carry the weight of a good life.

[Outro]
Almost full now.
Just need some of that barbecue smoke to-go.
Heavy in my hand, heavy with home.
Back out into the sun.
Until next week, old friend.