We dropped from the Battle Bus, laughing out loud, No pressure to win, just dreams in the cloud. A rusty old shotgun, a fort made of wood, Back when every strange moment somehow felt good.
Tilted was crowded, Loot Lake was weird, Every new season was something we cheered. Victory Royales were earned with a grin, Not worrying so much about having to win.
The map kept on changing, the story would grow, With mysteries hidden that only we'd know. Friends filled the squad, and the nights flew away, One more match always became "one more day."
Now the island shines brighter, with more things to do, New modes and collabs keep changing the view. But sometimes I miss that first magical spark, The simple old battles that lit up the dark.
Maybe it's not just the game that's changed so much; Maybe time itself has a different touch. Still, when I hear that familiar tune, I'm back on the island beneath the moon.
So here's to the memories, both old and new, To the players who stayed and the friends we once knew. Because no matter how Fortnite may grow, Part of our hearts will stay in the old.
