Burn Out

Lyrics

“Frizzy Mullets” [Intro] Yeah… Kennewick dust on the boots Seattle rain on the roof Ford diesel rumblin’ like Revelation Let’s ride [Verse 1] Moe Tron with the Bible and the socket wrench Cold-side intercooler pipe held together by intent F-450 idle singing like a war machine choir Bronco stuck in fifth gear but he still climb higher Got receipts from the lawyers and the trust fund smoke Reading old King County records like the system broke Everybody talking numbers, everybody want a slice But blood don’t disappear just because they changed the price Late night scrolling through prophecy and headlines Trying to see the hand moving underneath timelines Rome in the rearview, Babylon in a suit Satellites above while the roots still rooted Christian heart, steel nerves, dirt-road theology Mixing Book of Revelation with diesel technology One hand on the rosary, one hand on the wheel Asking if the world that we built is even real [Pre-Chorus] And the rain keep falling on the Columbia shore Everybody screaming but they don’t know what for Heard thunder in the distance like a freight train roll Trying to keep his spirit while the world sell souls [Chorus] Moe Tron, fire in the twilight Laughing through the chaos underneath the floodlights Half outlaw, half prophet with a cracked iPhone Still searching for the truth while he rides alone Moe Tron, engines and psalms Heavy metal prayers with grease on the palms World going crazy but he still stand tall If the kingdom gonna fall, let it fall standing all [Verse 2] Reading ancient scripture while the markets all bleed Everybody chasing power, everybody got greed But he seen enough storms rolling over these plains To know every empire eventually change Talks about Gog, Magog, kings in disguise While Wall Street gamblers keep on rolling the dice Says the throne ain’t always gold, sometimes it’s code Sometimes it’s a man getting rich off the load Brother need a Ranger, sister fighting in court Friends making music while the culture distort Still trying to keep peace when the group chats flame Watching everybody lose themselves for fame And he ain’t perfect, nah, he know that too Got shadows in the rearview breaking straight through But somewhere in the static and the late-night glow There’s a man still trying to protect his soul [Bridge] Old Ford coughing smoke in the grocery lot Classical radio buzzing while the coffee hot Somewhere between the churches and conspiracy threads He just wants truth that ain’t manufactured instead [Final Chorus] Moe Tron, born from the friction Blue-collar poetry mixed with conviction Dust in his lungs but fire in his chest Still asking hard questions never settling for less Moe Tron, storms never cease Trying to find God in the engine grease And if the whole world burn in a digital crawl He’ll still be standing when the last sparks fall.