Let the Cello Speak

[Intro]
Six strings, one room, a bow draws the line
Old wood wakes up; now the rhythm is mine

[Verse 1]
In a quiet hall where the candles burned low,
A wooden voice learned how to travel alone.
No band at its back, no bright brass parade,
Just a pulse in the grain and a choice to be made.
I take that measured walk, let it turn, let it climb,
Put a new step beneath every mark in the time.
From a page kept safe through the centuries’ dust,
To a beat in the chest that can carry our trust.

[Pre-Chorus]
One note, then another, the room opens wide,
Old craft in the hands, new words on the ride.

[Chorus]
Let the cello speak, let the low end reply,
Six old suites taking flight through the night.
Bach in the bones, but the story is new,
A bow on the string and a beat breaking through.
Let the cello speak, let the whole room move,
Every measured phrase finds a different groove.
From a quiet wooden voice to a crowd singing loud,
We carry that fire and we carry it proud.

[Verse 2]
Sarabande steps with a head-nod sway,
Courante feet running quick through the day.
Allemande turns with a steady resolve,
Each phrase a small door the hands can unlock.
No borrowed refrain, no old words replayed,
Just respect for the shape and the path that it made.
I write my own lines in the space that it leaves,
Where the bow cuts the air and the rhythm breathes.

[Pre-Chorus]
One note, then another, the room opens wide,
Old craft in the hands, new words on the ride.

[Chorus]
Let the cello speak, let the low end reply,
Six old suites taking flight through the night.
Bach in the bones, but the story is new,
A bow on the string and a beat breaking through.
Let the cello speak, let the whole room move,
Every measured phrase finds a different groove.
From a quiet wooden voice to a crowd singing loud,
We carry that fire and we carry it proud.

[Bridge]
Take the drums down—hear the wood ring clear,
A breath, a bow, and the past draws near.
Then the kick comes back, and the hands clap time,
Not a copy of a moment, but a meeting of minds.

[Final Chorus]
Let the cello speak, let the low end reply,
Six old suites taking flight through the night.
Bach in the bones, but the story is new,
A bow on the string and a beat breaking through.
Let the cello speak, let the whole room move,
Every measured phrase finds a different groove.
From a quiet wooden voice to a crowd singing loud,
We carry that fire and we carry it proud.

[Outro]
Six strings, one room, the last note stays
A new beat walks out through the old doorways.