Three Stadiums in One Mile

Lyrics

[Intro]
You get off at Vine City. Yeah, that's the stop.
Look left, look right. Take your pick.
You ain't even gotta choose.
This is our backyard.

[Verse 1]
See that folded metal origami over there? That's the Benz.
That's Bjarke Ingels' masterpiece, broke ground in 2014.
The pinwheel roof opens up for a Sunday blessing.
The Halo board is brighter than a spaceship landing.
I remember October 22, 2017.
Air smelled like charred hot dogs and bus diesel.
That's for the Falcons. For the Five Stripes.
That's for Arthur Blank's promise.
One city, united.

[Chorus]
Three stadiums, one mile wide.
You can hear the Hawks, hear the Panthers, hear the Dirty Birds fly.
I'm rocking two jerseys, don't even ask me why.
This ain't just a district, man, this is our pride.
Three stadiums. Less than one mile.
That's the sound of home.

[Verse 2]
Walk across the plaza, past the big steel bird.
That's State Farm Arena, you heard?
Used to be the Omni, back in 1972.
John Portman's concrete dream, now it's shiny and new.
Hardwood squeaks, the net sings a song for the home team.
Different sport, same Atlanta blood, same electric dream.
Then you walk down Capitol Avenue, see that big blue bowl?
That's where they lit the torch in 1996, bless its soul.
Now it's Georgia State territory.
Turner Field's ghost is cheering for the Panthers.
Smelled like fresh paint over old dirt that first game, September 2, 2017.
We don't tear down history. We just give it a new team.

[Chorus]
Three stadiums, one mile wide.
You can hear the Hawks, hear the Panthers, hear the Dirty Birds fly.
I'm rocking two jerseys, don't even ask me why.
This ain't just a district, man, this is our pride.
Three stadiums. Less than one mile.

[Bridge]
They tore down the Dome.
They imploded the Omni.
We keep the ticket stubs, right? We keep the memories.
For every name on the back of a jersey...
there's a thousand of us in the nosebleeds...
calling it home.
For the dude who played sax outside the Dome every Sunday from '98 to '16.
For the crews who poured the concrete and never saw their names in stone.
We build 'em. We fill 'em. We make 'em our own.

[Outro]
Falcons!
Hawks!
United!
Panthers!
One mile!
Our house!
Yeah. Our house.