The Revival: Grit and Guitar Riffs

Lyrics

It was quiet then.
Boarded-up windows on Glenwood.
Ghosts of the streetcar line.
Just dust and silence waiting for a match.

We came for the cheap rent.
Came with pawn-shop guitars and drum kits that barely fit in the back of a Ford Escort.
Found these empty rooms, smelling of sawdust and damp concrete.
We didn't ask permission.
We just plugged in.
Ran extension cords from the one working outlet.
The first sound wasn't a song.
It was feedback.
A high, electric scream that said, "we are here."

This is the revival!
Grit and guitar riffs.
PBRs and busted amps.
We built this town on three chords and the truth that nobody else wanted it.
This is the sound of the forgotten corner waking up.
A beautiful, glorious noise.

Then The Earl opened up.
Nineteen ninety-nine.
Suddenly, there was a stage.
A place to bleed.
A place to get a burger and a shot.
We spilled out of there, into 529, into the Unicorn before it went away.
Every night a new band, another anthem for the cracked pavement.
We weren't making history.
We were just making it through Thursday.

This is the revival!
Grit and guitar riffs.
PBRs and busted amps.
We built this town on three chords and the truth that nobody else wanted it.
This is the sound of the forgotten corner waking up.
A beautiful, glorious noise.

They call it a resurgence.
Like it was planned.
It was just us, with nowhere else to go.
We took the quiet and we made it loud.
Took the empty and filled it with sweat and smoke and sound.
A fire started with a single distorted string.

The sound is still here.
Can you hear it?
Under the traffic.
Behind the new brick.
The amp is still on.
Humming.
Waiting.