The Atlanta Brewing Company

Lyrics

[Intro]
Friday night. Quarter past seven.
Smells like wet hops and new concrete out on the square.
Just one flight, I told the guy.

[Verse 1]
Pale gold. Amber. Copper. A stout dark as a wet road.
Four little glasses on a paddle of pine.
Jim and Joe Kernan, back in 1993.
Brewing this stuff before the other guys with the fish logo
made it onto every car bumper in town.
This was the original.
This was the first taste.

[Chorus]
This is Atlanta Brewing.
Here in Chamblee now.
Sitting with the old ghosts and the new brick.
The taproom hum is the only anthem you need.
Not the biggest. Just the first.
And that's a different kind of prize.

[Verse 2]
I remember the move in 2017.
Saw the old brewhouse kettle on a flatbed truck, crawling down Peachtree Industrial.
The silver heart of the whole operation, out in the sun.
Now it sits right there, behind the glass.
Facing the MARTA tracks.
Watching the gold line whisper past toward Doraville.
A monument to staying power.

[Chorus]
This is Atlanta Brewing.
Here in Chamblee now.
Sitting with the old ghosts and the new brick.
The taproom hum is the only anthem you need.
Not the biggest. Just the first.
And that's a different kind of prize.

[Bridge]
I read a shipping receipt once.
From that first day they opened here.
A name, smudged, for the driver who hauled in the first kegs.
Just a line item.
I lift this last glass to him.
To all the hands that aren't on the plaque by the door.

[Outro]
The paddle is empty now.
Four clean circles on the dark wood.
The hum of the cooler never stops.
Just the sound of a city that knows its own name.
Yeah. I'll have another.