The Legends of Moore Road [Spoken Intro] Way past the pavement, where the Green Swamp swallowed the sky, there was a place on Moore Road where good judgment went to die. [Instrumental Build] [Verse 1] Curt and Alan found an old place, half surrendered to the vines, brought that tired mobile home back one crooked board at a time. Screened the porch and set the hot tub, stacked the coolers by the door, then invited every misfit who could find old Moore Road. [Chorus] Those were the legends of Moore Road, where the wild nights never slowed. Past the bridge and through the trees, out where nobody heard us breathe. We drank, we laughed, we lost control, went looking for the edge of the world. Some stories fade, but these still glow— the legends of Moore Road. [Verse 2] We shot at targets in the clearing, played the music twice too loud, built a bridge from old floor trusses that should never hold a crowd. It shook beneath each reckless footstep to the target tree out back. Every board said, “Turn around now.” Bad ideas kept us on track. Then we dragged the battered canoe into water black as coal, through the bay-head swamp at midnight where the cypress shadows rolled. Every splash became a gator, every branch became a ghost. [Eerie Instrumental] [Verse 3] Hot-tub steam climbed through the moonlight, cold drinks passed from hand to hand. Some were drunk and some were tripping; none of us had made a plan. Then Phadrus came like quiet thunder, not a man and not a ghost, just a voice beyond confusion when we needed answers most. “Creation isn’t complicated. You only make it hard to see. Everything begins by simply being, then becomes what it needs to be.” Truth could wait till tomorrow; we had music, fire and smoke. [Chorus] Those were the legends of Moore Road, where the wild nights never slowed. Past the bridge and through the trees, out where nobody heard us breathe. We drank, we laughed, we lost control, went looking for the edge of the world. Strange truths came and strange truths went in the legends of Moore Road. [Verse 4 — Buzzette] Alan had a little Chihuahua. Buzzette stayed close around the light. She never wandered near the roadway, not by day and not by night. Then one evening she crossed that boundary she had never crossed before. One set of headlights, one cruel moment— Buzzette came home no more. Laughter died around the fire. Nobody knew the words to say. Such a small and broken body on such a large and careless road. Even legends carry sorrow. Moore Road held what never leaves. [Soft Memorial Instrumental] [Verse 5 — The Bonfire] Another night beside the bonfire, Alan’s mom and dad dropped by. Bud was bragging on his girlfriends while the sparks climbed through the sky. Someone asked why he chose Joan from every woman he had known. Bud just grinned and gave his answer in that plain old deadpan tone: “Because she had the best pussy.” Then Joan spoke up beside him: “Yep, I had the best pussy.” We laughed until our ribs were aching, and still laugh like that today. [Chorus] Those were the legends of Moore Road, hot-tub steam and stories told. Buzzette curled beside the fire, Bud and Joan and one-liners. Canoes, strange lights and swamp-dark trees, old lost friends and memories. The house may fade, but these still glow— the legends of Moore Road. [Verse 6] Years rolled on beyond that porch light. People scattered, houses changed. Some grew older, some disappeared, some never felt the same. The floor-truss bridge went back to dust, the target tree grew scarred and wide, but memory keeps that hot tub steaming and the canoe pulled up outside. Maybe Phadrus was the mushrooms. Maybe truth came through the smoke. Maybe Bud was just explaining marriage through a dirty joke. Maybe nothing there was sacred. Maybe all of it still is. [Spoken Breakdown] Moore Road was never famous. No sign. No velvet rope. Just a trailer, a screened porch, a dangerous bridge, a black-water swamp, and enough bad judgment to last a lifetime. Some places disappear. Some places move inside you. [Final Chorus] Those were the legends of Moore Road, where the wild nights never slowed. Past the pavement, through the trees, out where nobody heard us breathe. We drank, we laughed, we lost control, found strange truths and paid the toll. Some friends left, but these still glow— the legends of Moore Road. Buzzette’s shadow by the fire, Bud and Joan and one-liners, Phadrus calling through the smoke, every wild and reckless joke. The house may fall, the swamp may close, time may take the ones we know, but somewhere that porch light still glows on the legends of Moore Road. [Slow Instrumental Outro] Past the pavement. Through the swamp. Across the shaking bridge. Moore Road remembers.
