The 30-Year Fight: A City Is Born

Lyrics

A generation passed.
Thirty years in the shadow of a borrowed dome.
Thirty years our taxes sent away from home.
A voice unheard in the halls of Fulton County.
A promise unkept. A forgotten bounty.

It began with a whisper in '75.
Eva Galambos, keeping the dream alive.
The Committee for Sandy Springs, taking a stand.
Mimeographed flyers passed from hand to hand.
Not a revolution, not a violent storm.
Just a simple idea, taking its form.
We can pave our own roads, we can light our own streets.
A patient refusal to accept the defeats.

Thirty years of walking that long, hard line.
Thirty years to draw our own design.
From seventy-five to two thousand and five,
We fought for the right to simply survive, to thrive.
This wasn't a gift, it was earned in the fight.
To stand on our own, in our own sovereign light.

The years became decades, the fight wore on.
Lobbying the Capitol from dusk until dawn.
They told us no, again and again and again.
But the yard signs blossomed in the sun and the rain.
House Bill 497, a crack in the wall.
A chance for the people to answer the call.
Judson Hill and Bill Heath, they carried the bill.
Forcing the powers to bend to our will.

Thirty years of walking that long, hard line.
Thirty years to draw our own design.
From seventy-five to two thousand and five,
We fought for the right to simply survive, to thrive.
This wasn't a gift, it was earned in the fight.
To stand on our own, in our own sovereign light.

November second, two thousand and four.
The autumn drizzle outside the polling door.
Inside the school gym, the fluorescent hum.
For thirty long years, this day had to come.
Then the third of November, the numbers rang true.
Eighty-seven percent, the dream was born new.
And Eva, she cried, through the champagne and cheers,
"I feel like a mother... after all of these years."

Thirty years of walking that long, hard line!
Thirty years to finally draw our design!
From seventy-five to two thousand and five!
We fought for the right to simply survive, to thrive!
This wasn't a gift, it was earned in the fight!
To stand on our own, in our own sovereign light!

December first, the charter takes hold.
A story of patience, now finally told.
In a leased office space, the smell of new paint.
The work just beginning, for sinner and for saint.
The city is born.
The city is born.