East Lake & Edgewood: Sisterhood of Streets

Lyrics

[Intro]

Sisters, woven in asphalt and green,
Kirkwood, Edgewood, East Lake—
three threads in the city's quiet loom.

[Verse 1]
I trace your spine, BeltLine,
that paved vein from Kirkwood's edge,
past Edgewood's retail hum,
to East Lake's reborn greens.
Tom Cousins, in 1995, you saw the swamp,
turned it to fairways—
East Lake Golf Club, where Bobby Jones swung
his first club in 1908, dew on the grass.
Carol Naughton speaks of mixed homes,
cradles to college, 73% less crime by 2022.

[Chorus]
Oh, BeltLine, you bind us,
like a sister's hand in mine,
from Whole Foods' rattling carts in Edgewood,
organic kale and craft beer spilling out,
to the Earl's dim stage lights,
music pulsing at 9 p.m., sticky bar counters.
Three sisters clustered,
Kirkwood whispering to East Lake through you.

[Verse 2]
East Lake Foundation's report in 2022,
70% employed where once 13%,
clubhouse floors polished since 1925,
golf carts humming at 6:30 a.m.,
fresh-cut grass and cigar smoke.
Edgewood's plaza, 5 p.m. crowds,
coffee aroma from cafes, 78°F breeze.
Bicycles clicking chains,
murals under fingertips along your path.

[Bridge]

But the missing voices, displaced in the '90s,
original residents, small owners squeezed by rents—
their stories fade like morning dew.
Yet you connect, BeltLine, holding the kinship,
against the pull of change.

[Verse 3]
MARTA buses rumble on Memorial Drive,
delivery trucks hiss at dawn,
food truck tacos, al pastor with lime,
on flimsy plates near your trail.
East Lake's transformation,
Edgewood's vibrant district,
Kirkwood's porch lights nodding.

[Chorus]
Oh, BeltLine, you bind us,
like a sister's hand in mine,
from Whole Foods' rattling carts in Edgewood,
organic kale and craft beer spilling out,
to the Earl's dim stage lights,
music pulsing at 9 p.m., sticky bar counters.
Three sisters clustered,
Kirkwood whispering to East Lake through you.

[Outro]

Sisters, in the humid air,
hold fast, BeltLine—our quiet bond.