Avondale Estates: Stratford-upon-Avon by Lake

Lyrics

[Intro]
Nineteen twenty-four.
The smell of turned red earth and fresh pine.
I see a roofline, steep and dark against the Georgia sky.
Out of place.
Out of time.

[Verse 1]
You must have held it in your hand, George.
George Francis Willis.
A little watercolor painting, wasn't it?
Shakespeare's home, all muted greens and English grey.
You stood on a plot in DeKalb County,
and somehow, you saw Stratford-upon-Avon.
You traced the lines with your finger,
a perfect dream on paper, waiting for a foundation.

[Chorus]
Half-timbered homes on a southern street.
Stratford-upon-Avon, born from Georgia clay.
An English vision by a man-made lake.
A watercolor you willed to life one day.

[Verse 2]
You dug the basin deep and let the water fill.
Called it Lake Avondale.
A looking-glass for a different world.
Reflecting gables and chimneys that didn't know our sun.
You told the builders, "Steeper. More authentic."
And the bricks were laid, one by one.
Each one a word in your strange, beautiful story.

[Chorus]
Half-timbered homes on a southern street.
Stratford-upon-Avon, born from Georgia clay.
An English vision by a man-made lake.
A watercolor you willed to life one day.

[Bridge]
But whose hands mixed the mortar?
Whose sweat fell on the stone?
Their names aren't on the painting,
just the perfect picture of the finished home.
This whole town, a beautiful idea.
A utopian stage, precisely set.
And under the Tudor beams, you can still feel the echo of what it took to get here.

[Outro]
And still it stands.
Your fantasy, solid as a wall.
The dream you painted onto the land.
I walk by the water.
I see the reflection.
It's almost England.
Almost.