[Verse 1] There was a path through barley fields before the stones were laid. Before the names were written down. Before the borders stayed. My father's boots once crossed this hill. His father's did the same. The earth forgets the face you wore— but never how you came. [Pre-Chorus] Raise the bow. Turn the wheel. Let the old road speak. [Chorus] The road remembers. Every heel. Every wound we thought would heal. The road remembers. Dust and rain. Every leaving. Every name. Carry the tune from hill to hill. Let the fiddle speak where voices still. The road remembers. So will we. [Verse 2] The inn is gone. The mill collapsed. The orchard turned to thorn. But somewhere under root and stone the older song is worn. Not every tale needs parchment. Not every oath needs ink. Some histories live inside the ground beneath the places where we drink. [Pre-Chorus] Raise the bow. Turn the wheel. Let the old road speak. [Chorus] The road remembers. Every heel. Every wound we thought would heal. The road remembers. Dust and rain. Every leaving. Every name. Carry the tune from hill to hill. Let the fiddle speak where voices still. The road remembers. So will we. [Bridge] We are not the first to hunger. Not the first to lose our way. Not the first to bury someone and keep walking the next day. So when the night comes down around us and the fire burns too low— listen. Every road behind you knows. [Final Chorus] The road remembers. Every heel. Every wound we learned to heal. The road remembers. Blood and rain. Every leaving. Every name. Carry the tune from hill to hill. Let the old world sing through us still. The road remembers. So will we. The road remembers. So will we. [Outro] One road. Still here.
