Showdown at Sandy Shores

The Grinch robs Sandy Shores but gets stopped by the Lost MC, Gritty Biker Rock

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(Stil: Outlaw Country / Southern Rock / Gritty Storytelling)

(Intro - [Sound of breaking glass, a distant siren, and the rumble of V-Twin engines. A heavy, distorted guitar riff starts, accompanied by a slow, menacing drum beat.])

(Spoken, deep voice): He thought he could steal the joy from the desert. He thought Blaine County was soft. He forgot one thing... We don't call the cops. We call the brothers.

(Verse 1) The Grinch came down from Mount Chiliad high, With a sneer on his lip and a mean, yellow eye. He rolled into Sandy Shores while the moon was low, Stealing whiskey and parts, moving silent and slow. He took the patches, he took the chrome, He tried to wreck the holidays in our trailer home. He loaded his sack with the Lost MC's loot, Thinking nobody’d notice, the green-skinned brute.

(Chorus) You messed with the pack of the Lost MC! This ain't Whoville, son, this is Sandy Shores! We trade in gasoline, bullets and wars, We settle our debts and we settle scores! So run, Mr. Grinch, hear the V-Twins roar, You kicked open the absolute wrong damn door!

(Verse 2) Johnny saw him first, by the old water tank, Trying to siphon the fuel from a rusty bank. The alarm went out, "Brothers, rise and ride!" The Grinch dropped the hose and looked for a place to hide. But the Harleys circled like wolves in the dust, Trapping that thief in a cloud of rust. He pulled out a candy cane, sharpened to kill, But a sawed-off shotgun stopped him still.

(Guitar Solo - [Fast, chaotic Southern Rock solo. Sounds like a bar fight set to music. Heavy distortion and wah-wah.])

(Bridge) He pleaded for mercy, he cried about "noise," He said, "I just hate Christmas and all of your toys!" Clay lit a cigar and laughed in his face, "We ain't got toys, pal, we run this place." We didn't call the Sheriff, we didn't call the law, We gave him a "Lost Christmas" he never foresaw.

(Outro) (Sound of a motorcycle peeling out, leaving the scene) (Spoken): And they say his heart grew three sizes that day... Mostly because of the swelling. Don't come back to Blaine County, Green Boy. (Fade out with laughter and clinking beer bottles)

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(Stil: Outlaw Country / Southern Rock / Gritty Storytelling) (Intro - [Sound of breaking glass, a distant siren, and the rumble of V-Twin engines. A heavy, distorted guitar riff starts, accompanied by a slow, menacing drum beat.]) (Spoken, deep voice): He thought he could steal the joy from the desert. He thought Blaine County was soft. He forgot one thing... We don't call the cops. We call the brothers. (Verse 1) The Grinch came down from Mount Chiliad high, With a sneer on his lip and a mean, yellow eye. He rolled into Sandy Shores while the moon was low, Stealing whiskey and parts, moving silent and slow. He took the patches, he took the chrome, He tried to wreck the holidays in our trailer home. He loaded his sack with the Lost MC's loot, Thinking nobody’d notice, the green-skinned brute. (Chorus) You messed with the pack of the Lost MC! This ain't Whoville, son, this is Sandy Shores! We trade in gasoline, bullets and wars, We settle our debts and we settle scores! So run, Mr. Grinch, hear the V-Twins roar, You kicked open the absolute wrong damn door! (Verse 2) Johnny saw him first, by the old water tank, Trying to siphon the fuel from a rusty bank. The alarm went out, "Brothers, rise and ride!" The Grinch dropped the hose and looked for a place to hide. But the Harleys circled like wolves in the dust, Trapping that thief in a cloud of rust. He pulled out a candy cane, sharpened to kill, But a sawed-off shotgun stopped him still. (Guitar Solo - [Fast, chaotic Southern Rock solo. Sounds like a bar fight set to music. Heavy distortion and wah-wah.]) (Bridge) He pleaded for mercy, he cried about "noise," He said, "I just hate Christmas and all of your toys!" Clay lit a cigar and laughed in his face, "We ain't got toys, pal, we run this place." We didn't call the Sheriff, we didn't call the law, We gave him a "Lost Christmas" he never foresaw. (Chorus) You messed with the pack of the Lost MC! This ain't Whoville, son, this is Sandy Shores! We trade in gasoline, bullets and wars, We settle our debts and we settle scores! So run, Mr. Grinch, hear the V-Twins roar, You kicked open the absolute wrong damn door! (Outro) (Sound of a motorcycle peeling out, leaving the scene) (Spoken): And they say his heart grew three sizes that day... Mostly because of the swelling. Don't come back to Blaine County, Green Boy. (Fade out with laughter and clinking beer bottles)

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