I can walk on the side of the street
with the neon angels and the brothers of blues,
where the river runs 2,000 miles through my veins.
I can throw back my head and sing to the stars
that shine on all of us alike down here.
Down here where the immortal king reins with a ringed, iron fist,
and the music is a life force pulsing through the people.
Down here where I can find solace in a breeze rushing through my hair,
filled with the whispers of a city founded on the sweet, rocking rhythm of the blues.
This is our city.
Our own Greater Memphis, the child of exploration and history.
A beautiful child with a smiling face, and sticky fingers covered in Barbeque,
swaying to a beat shaking the river to its bed.
This is Memphis, where the sun sings at Marshal and Union,
and sets on the ever-stretching horizon of the Mississippi.
These are the people, proud of their roots, branching out across the world.
I am from Memphis, standing on a bridge under an open sky,
breaking in my lungs with that hot, humid air.
I breathe in deeply and I am home.
