Mvskoke Trade Trails: Paths That Became Highland Avenue

Lyrics

[Intro]
Before the name.
Before the grid.
Just the ridge.

[Verse 1]
The land had its own logic.
A high, dry spine between two creeks.
Peachtree to the north, Clear Creek below.
A desire line worn into red clay.
Not for conquest, but for trade.
Mvskoke feet, century on century.
Moving deer hide, mica, stories.
A path that listened to the topography.

[Chorus]
And that path is still here.
You can't erase a river, you can't erase a ridge.
Under the asphalt, under the painted lines...
the ghost of the trail still lives.
North Highland Avenue is just the newest name
for the oldest way.

[Verse 2]
Then came the sound of iron on wood.
The surveyor's chain, the harsh new angle.
They called it progress, this straightening.
This disregard for the gentle curve.
They laid their geometry over the land's memory.
Paved a history, called it a road.

[Chorus]
But that path is still here.
You can't erase a river, you can't erase a ridge.
Under the asphalt, under the painted lines...
the ghost of the trail still lives.
North Highland Avenue is just the newest name
for the oldest way.

[Bridge]
I search the old oaks for the sign.
The sapling, bent and tied a lifetime ago.
A living marker, a question asked to the future.
A knot of wood that says, "This way home."
We lost the language of the trees.
We only read the signs they sell.

[Outro]
So when you drive that steady grade...
feel the memory in the roadbed.
The whisper of moccasins under your wheels.
Between the creeks.
On the high ground.