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A low drum beats from far away
It echoes through the hills’delay
The sound is old yet sharp as now
It wakes the dust it stirs the vow
The pass has seen both peace and fight
It’s felt the fire it’s felt the night
Yet through it all the drums still call
Reminding roads they’re worth it all
You say a dream should sound like this—
A pulse that shakes the doubter’s bliss
That keeps its march through wind and rain
Till even stone will learn its name
At dusk the drums grow faint again
But in your chest they still remain
A beat that guides the steps you take
And builds the road you choose to make
