In dusty fields and backwoods bars
Songs traveled far, under moonlit stars
No name, no claim, just hands and strings
Roots whispered low where the river sings

Passed down lines, a little twist
Every voice left a subtle mist

Then came the amps and the copper wire
Old blues wrapped in lil' electric fire
Six-string thunder, claims were staked
Roots wore new boots, but the ground still quaked

Was it theirs, or fleeting glances?
New riffs swinging on borrowed branches

How is this different? Tell me who decides
When echoes ride the winds of time
Call it yours, call it chances
We all stand on these roots and branches

Now modern minds, they mix and match
Splicing tunes with a nervous scratch
One note close, and the gavel drops
Branches snap and the music stops

When did we fence off the songbird's flight?
Ain't every melody born of night?

And then came the AI, spinning the thread
Patterns woven from the songs long dead
Just a mirror of the paths we’ve walked
Echoes talking where echoes talked

Wires and circuits reveal new dances
The same old tune on brand-new branches

How is this different? Tell me who decides
When echoes ride the winds of time
Call it yours, call it chances
We all stand on these roots and branches

Don’t stop the beat, don’t break the line
The rhythm flows through roots and time
From roots to branches, bold and free
Just how we like it-let it be

aug19

duncanbeattie

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