Past the Gate (We Don't Call 911) ©️2026

[Intro] (Fast, distorted banjo lick starts solo in the left ear, suddenly exploded by a massive, down-tuned Drop-D electric guitar riff, heavy double-bass drum stomp, and a screaming southern slide lead.) (Raspy spoken intro growl) You saw the sign on the post... Now you’re on the wrong side of the timber line. [Verse 1] Rusted iron hanging on an old oak tree Spells out a warning in paint for free: “No reception, no sirens, no flashing blue light— You cross this cattle guard, you’re in for a fight.” Half a mile of red clay stretching through the pines You picked the wrong night to step over my lines. Tires crunching gravel, thinking nobody knows Shadows in the timber where the dark wind blows. [Pre-Chorus] Hear the heavy chains rattle in the brush out deep Got a couple red-eyed hounds that don't ever sleep! Jaws like iron and a bloodhound roar— You ain't making it whole to the front screen door! [Chorus] (Full throttle, crushing heavy groove with screaming backing gang vocals) Out here in the holler, we don't dial 911! Got a half-mile gauntlet and a twelve-gauge gun! If you dodge the demon dogs running through the black, Ain't a breath in your chest that's ever heading back! You best turn the truck around, drop it into gear— 'Cause the only thing waiting is your maker right here! [Verse 2] First two hundred yards and you’re feeling the heat Paws tearing turf right behind your feet Headlights flicker in the dense pine gloom Rolling down the lane straight into your doom. I’m sitting on the porch with the hammer pulled back Watching through the dark as the timber turns black. No badge on the road, no law in the trees Just cold steel judgment bring you down to your knees. [Pre-Chorus] Hear the heavy chains rattle in the brush out deep Got a couple red-eyed hounds that don't ever sleep! Jaws like iron and a bloodhound roar— You ain't making it whole to the front screen door! [Chorus] Out here in the holler, we don't dial 911! Got a half-mile gauntlet and a twelve-gauge gun! If you dodge the demon dogs running through the black, Ain't a breath in your chest that's ever heading back! You best turn the truck around, drop it into gear— 'Cause the only thing waiting is your maker right here! [Guitar & Fiddle Solo / Breakdown] (Halftime groove breakdown: heavy, sludge-metal bass riff with driving kick drum, leading into an aggressive, dual-harmony lead guitar and distorted fiddle trade-off with screaming pinch harmonics.) --- [Bridge] (Low baritone spoken snarl over chugging palm-muted guitars and ambient howling hounds in the background) You made it through the mud... You made it past the pack... Now you’re staring at the porch and there’s no turning back. (Cocking shotgun sound FX) Say your peace to the pine trees, son... [Chorus] (Explosive maximum energy, wall-of-sound riffage and full-throated delivery) Out here in the holler, we don't dial 911! Got a half-mile gauntlet and a twelve-gauge gun! If you dodge the demon dogs running through the black, Ain't a breath in your chest that's ever heading back! You best turn the truck around, drop it into gear— 'Cause the only thing waiting is your maker right here! [Outro] (Fast double-kick metal tempo with ringing high bends) Past the gate! Down the drive! Ain't nobody leaving this dirt alive! We don't call! We stand our ground! (Final heavy Drop-D power chord hit with lingering tube-amp feedback, panting hound SFX, and the solid thud of a front door slamming shut)