I took the road where maps run out,
Salt in air, no room for doubt.
Northbound tires, a restless drive,
Chasing proof I’m still alive.

Stormy islands, wild and free,
Stone and wind remember me.
Mist and fire, sea and sky,
Every road says don’t ask why.
Stormy islands, hard and true,
Every tide pulls me to you.

Skye wears fog like second skin,
Hills fade out, then pull you in.
Ghosts in rain and mountain blue,
She won’t speak — she watches you.

Ei-la breathes in smoke and flame,
Peat and oak repeat her name.
Whisky gold and ocean air,
One slow sip — the storm is there.

Stormy islands, wild and free,
Stone and wind remember me.
Mist and fire, sea and sky,
Every road says don’t ask why.
Stormy islands, hard and true,
Every tide pulls me to you.

Harris, Lewis, rough and wide,
Wind-scarred hills and rising tide.
Work and wool and endless rain,
Truth is earned through grit and pain.

Orkney carved in rock and time,
Circles older than the line.
Viking ghosts and standing stone,
You never walk these paths alone.

Shetland holds the edge of light,
Endless day, relentless night.
Fiddle cries in empty air,
Stay too long — you’re stripped and bare.

If I stop, the wind moves on,
If I stay, I’m almost gone.
Every island leaves its mark,
Fire in the cold and spark in dark.

Stormy islands, wild and free,
They keep cutting into me.
Stone and wind, sea and sky,
Every road still asks me why.
Stormy islands, rough and true,
I keep leaving — back to you.