Odes to Poncey-Highland · Track 11 · middle
The BeltLine Hums
The BeltLine Eastside Trail along the neighborhood's edge — the old railroad corridor reborn as a ribbon of joggers, cyclists, murals, and new life stitching the eastside together.
Lyrics
[Intro] Yeah, hear it rolling. [Verse 1] There’s a ribbon cutting right through the clay Where the freight cars used to rattle all day Now it’s rubber tires humming on the concrete path Leaving all that rusted iron in the past From the edge of Irwin Street up to 10th You can feel the whole city catching its breath Strollers and the spokes spinning into the sun Look at everybody out on the run [Chorus] The BeltLine hums, oh the BeltLine spins Watch the murals fly by where the bridge begins Stitching up the eastside, drawing the crowd Since 2012, we’ve been rolling it out Yeah, the old rail corridor is beating like a drum Listen to the BeltLine hum [Verse 2] Got the Tiny Doors hiding by the underpass block Got the skyline rising up over the walk Passing by the market where the shadows stretch down Every pair of sneakers is mapping the town We’re moving on the loop where the kudzu used to crawl Waking up the gravel by the retaining wall Pedal to the pavement, catching that breeze Dodging the scooters and the slow-rolling wheels [Chorus] The BeltLine hums, oh the BeltLine spins Watch the murals fly by where the bridge begins Stitching up the eastside, drawing the crowd Since 2012, we’ve been rolling it out Yeah, the old rail corridor is beating like a drum Listen to the BeltLine hum [Bridge] It’s a river of neighbors, a current of friends Where the old steel stops and the new life begins We’re walking shoulder to shoulder in the Georgia heat Tracing the lines where the neighborhoods meet [Guitar Solo] [Chorus] The BeltLine hums, oh the BeltLine spins Watch the murals fly by where the bridge begins Stitching up the eastside, drawing the crowd Since 2012, we’ve been rolling it out Yeah, the old rail corridor is beating like a drum Listen to the BeltLine hum [Outro] Keep rolling, keep riding Through the bridges and the blooms Listen to the BeltLine hum Yeah, just let the tires spin until you finally find the place you’re meant to go