Terminus: The City Built on Rails

Lyrics

Before the name, there was a sound.
A hammer in the Georgia pine.
Before the streets, a single point.
I'm speaking to you.
The zero mile.
December twenty-first, eighteen thirty-seven.
Just red clay and the smell of damp earth.
Samuel Mitchell's men, they pulled the chain taut.
A theodolite read the angle of the sun.
They said the site was high, and healthy, and well-watered.
They drove you down into the ground.
A wooden stake.
The end of the line.
Oh, Terminus.
Just a point on a map not yet drawn.
A promise whispered to the iron.
From this one heartbeat, a city is born.
From you, Terminus.
All the lines will run from you.
The first thin wisp of smoke was Hardy Ivy's.
The sound of the axe widened the sky.
They called it Marthasville for a little while.
For Governor Lumpkin's daughter, a pretty name.
But everyone was just waiting.
Waiting for the sound of the rails.
Waiting for the world to arrive at your door.
Oh, Terminus.
Just a point on a map not yet drawn.
A promise whispered to the iron.
From this one heartbeat, a city is born.
From you, Terminus.
All the lines will run from you.
And then it came.
September fifteenth, eighteen forty-five.
The hiss of steam, a shriek of steel.
The smell of coal smoke and hot metal on the air.
The Fire Fly, pulling the coast inland.
And J. Edgar Thomson spoke a new name, a prettier name.
He called you Atlanta.
Feminine of Atlantic.
A city for the sea, born in the woods.
Now you're hidden.
Under a vault, beneath the freight depot.
The city hums on a grid you laid down in secret.
But I know you're there.
Zero Mile Post.
The quiet heart.
The first thud of the hammer in the Georgia pine.