Up in the Holler

Verse 1:

In the quiet of the holler,

where the sun spills gold through the trees,

there’s an old wooden cabin,

the heart of my secrets,

my still,

a rebellious spirit humming beneath the surface.

Verse 2:

Air thick with the scent of pine,

the whisper of the creek

like an old friend,

flowing slow, carrying stories

from the mountains to the valleys,

where soft shadows gather

and dreams linger,

pressed like wildflowers in a book.

Chorus:

Steel and fire,

the kiss of copper,

transforming simple grains

into liquid warmth,

a dance of alchemy,

as the world outside rushes by,

but here, time bends and sways,

like the old swing on the porch,

creaking a tune of forgotten days.

Bridge:

Moonlit nights paint the hills,

and here, beneath a blanket of stars,

I become the keeper of traditions,

the laughter and songs

of my kin,

echoing off these walls, a chorus

to the heartbeat of the land.

Outro:

In the stillness, the world fades,

and all that remains

is the soft hum of history—

a story etched in every drop,

the taste of freedom,

the pulse of each season,

my still up in the holler,

where life flows, unconfined.