[Verse 1] You came north with a toolbox rattling in the bed, A raven on the fence line, frost along the shed. The old map on the table had a crease through Healy, And the ground beneath the kitchen felt too still to be. You marked the ridge in pencil, drew a line through stone, While winter pressed its shoulder to the windows of your home. [Verse 2] I watched you turn the wrench on that old Chevy late, Your gloves gone stiff with weather, your coffee gone cold. You spoke of buried readings, numbers sealed away, Of a fault beneath the birches that refused to drift or fade. No grand design was written on the mountainside, Just the work you chose to shoulder and the truth you wouldn’t hide. [Pre-Chorus] The soil kept its counsel, the long snow held its breath, You set your boots beside it and listened underneath. [Chorus] Hold fast where the cold ground turns, Keep one small lamp for the ones who return. If the map runs out and the old signs fail, We’ll make a home where the north winds sail. Hold fast, let the hard years pass, A hand on the door and a name in the glass. [Verse 3] Poe picked at the porch rail, Bandit watched the hall, A tin cup by the woodstove, coats hung on the wall. You built your days from odd jobs, seed and stubborn plans, Made a little room for wonder with your own two hands. And when the numbers lined up where the mountain bends, You didn’t call it destiny—you called your oldest friends. [Pre-Chorus] The soil kept its counsel, the long snow held its breath, You set your boots beside it and listened underneath. [Chorus] Hold fast where the cold ground turns, Keep one small lamp for the ones who return. If the map runs out and the old signs fail, We’ll make a home where the north winds sail. Hold fast, let the hard years pass, A hand on the door and a name in the glass. [Bridge] Maybe all the buried records were only stone and time, Maybe every strange alignment was a mark we chose to find. Still, when the dark gets heavy and the roof takes on the snow, You’ll have the work you finished and the place you chose to grow. [Final Chorus] Hold fast where the cold ground turns, Keep one small lamp for the ones who return. If the map runs out and the old signs fail, We’ll make a home where the north winds sail. Hold fast, let the hard years pass, A hand on the door and a name in the glass. [Outro] The kettle ticks at morning; the raven leaves the rail. You step outside, and winter lays its quiet on the trail.
