Maps are outdated, signs are all wrong,
But the engine hums its traveling song.
We don’t need answers, just enough gas —
Sometimes forward’s the only ask.

And we’ve been lost, yeah, we’ve been stalled,
But never once did we stop at all.

New roads, same sun —
We’re not done, we’ve just begun.
Every mile’s another chance
To learn a slower kind of dance.
Let the past fade in the mirror’s glow —
We’re not who we were, but we still go.
New roads, same sun —
And we carry on.

There’s a grace in turning where you’ve never been,
In learning how to fall and rise again.
No parade, no flashing light,
Just quiet motion toward the light.

And though the signs don’t always show,
We trust the warmth — we let it grow.

New roads, same sun —
We’re not done, we’ve just begun.
Every mile’s another chance
To learn a slower kind of dance.
Let the past fade in the mirror’s glow —
We’re not who we were, but we still go.
New roads, same sun —
And we carry on.

We’ve got dings and we’ve got rust,
But there’s more to us than dust.
Every day we still get up —
That’s more than luck, that’s love.

New roads, same sun —
We’re not done, we’ve just begun.
Side by side, come what may,
We’ll find the light, we’ll make our way.
Let the past fade in the mirror’s glow —
We’re not who we were, but we still go.
New roads, same sun —
And we carry on.

New Roads, Same Sun

Leaves still turn, waves still break,
There’s joy that doesn’t need to fake.
A child laughs down the block,
The world keeps spinning, with each tick of the clock.

We’ve seen the worst, we’ve felt the weight,
But not all endings mean it’s too late.
A hand reached out, a window wide —
The light still finds a way inside.

This is still a beautiful place —
Even with the cracks, the hurt, the space.
There’s kindness blooming in the gray,
A quiet truth that doesn’t fade.
You just have to pause, to trace
The proof — this is still a beautiful place.

Old men feeding birds on park bench lines,
A stranger waiting while your train arrives.
Someone sings to no one there,
But fills the air with something rare.

This is still a beautiful place —
Even with the pain we can’t erase.
The stars don’t ask to be believed,
They just keep shining through the grief.
And in your tired, weathered face,
I see it: this is still a beautiful place.

Not perfect, not pristine —
But real, and raw, and everything between.
We’re holding on, not just to cope —
But to rebuild something made of hope.

This is still a beautiful place —
A fragile, fierce, unfinished grace.
And though the dark may stake its claim,
We light a match, we speak our name.
And in the echo, in the space —
We say it loud: this is still a beautiful place.

Blown Away

Carrie Underwood