The Rest Is Ours
by D'om Ahum
Settlors — Country Freedom Style A dusty southern trail at golden hour. A lone man rides, guitar on back, eyes toward the horizon. Symbols of justice in nature: a broken chain on a fencepost, an old deed flapping in the wind. Keywords: freedom, dominion, settlor, reversion, land, equity, birthright, the rest is ours.
0:00 / 03:12
9
Plays
2
Likes
03:12
Duration
Aug 13
Released
BPM
120
Key
Time Signature
4/4
Genre
Mood
Energy
Audio Analysis
Waveform Visualization
Lyrics
A dusty trail, the sun hangs low,
A shadow long, where dreams still grow.
A guitar strapped, my saddle worn,
The land I ride, where hope was born.
Broken chain on a weathered post,
Freedom's whisper, what I love most.
The rest is ours, the birthright's clear,
Through sweat and soil, we persevere.
Dominion's voice, it calls and towers,
What they left behind—the rest is ours.
An old deed flaps, the wind runs wild,
A promise scrawled, freedom's child.
Equity whispers in fields of grain,
A settlor's dream, not bound by chain.
The creek runs true, the hills still stand,
A covenant carved by steady hands.
Justice rises, the skies hold the key,
In every stone, in every tree.
The rest is ours, the birthright's clear,
Through sweat and soil, we persevere.
Dominion's voice, it calls and towers,
What they left behind—the rest is ours.
The hawk cries out, the horizon bends,
Land and freedom, our oldest friends.
The reversion’s tide, it pulls, it flows,
In the earth’s deep heart, the settlor knows.
A shadow long, where dreams still grow.
A guitar strapped, my saddle worn,
The land I ride, where hope was born.
Broken chain on a weathered post,
Freedom's whisper, what I love most.
The rest is ours, the birthright's clear,
Through sweat and soil, we persevere.
Dominion's voice, it calls and towers,
What they left behind—the rest is ours.
An old deed flaps, the wind runs wild,
A promise scrawled, freedom's child.
Equity whispers in fields of grain,
A settlor's dream, not bound by chain.
The creek runs true, the hills still stand,
A covenant carved by steady hands.
Justice rises, the skies hold the key,
In every stone, in every tree.
The rest is ours, the birthright's clear,
Through sweat and soil, we persevere.
Dominion's voice, it calls and towers,
What they left behind—the rest is ours.
The hawk cries out, the horizon bends,
Land and freedom, our oldest friends.
The reversion’s tide, it pulls, it flows,
In the earth’s deep heart, the settlor knows.
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