(Intro)
Sirens slide through venetian blinds, heat shaking the bones of Calle Ocho,
County of Dade stamped on my chest, suitcase of ghosts, I can't let go.
Listen —
(Verse 1)
Raised where the pavement wrote names in chalk and rain, Miami nights teach you to move, not complain,
She left a jacket on the radiator, scent of jasmine and fear, a bullet braided into our refrain.
I watched shadows split the porch light, heard the radio choke on static — that snap,
Her laugh stuck in the hallway, a paperback promise, a cigarette butt on the map.
I learned to measure time by sirens and stop signs, the skyline a razor, neon flicks the pain,
County of Dade raised me tough, but grief got louder than the rain.
(Chorus)
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, the miles are bridges made of folklore,
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, Moore Street's calling like an open door.
Neil's got hands that fix bikes and hearts, Toya smiles then whispers in the dark,
Wendy stands white-knuckled, steady — Vidale's silence hits like a spark.
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, hustle is the hymn, blood on the floor.
(Verse 2)
Athens porchlight, downtown thrift shop, she slipped a paperback in my palm,
Amanda with a crooked grin, taught my rough hands softer psalms.
We shared coffee at sunrise, her voice barefoot on the city steps,
She traced a line in the margin, wrote "stay" where my future leapt.
Night of the porch swing — a pop, a hush, the jacket folded on the rail,
Streetlamp blinked like an eye gone out, perfume on cotton, hope turned pale.
She taught me how to plant seeds where all I knew was concrete weeds,
Taught me how to breathe between the nights, how to count my quieter needs.
(Chorus — double)
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, every mile a cut I wore,
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, Athens ghosts tucked in my drawer.
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, Moore Street hums the same old score,
305 to Moore — I can't ignore, I swore I left but now they're at my door.
(Bridge — Vignettes)
Neil, Mr. Fix-It, grease on his knuckles, hums an old Motown tune,
Patch a wheel, stitch a wound, solder tears beneath the moon.
Toya, lipstick bright at midnight, wink like a small eclipse,
She'll flirt in the light, then close the blinds — her love's a double script.
Wendy, plain jacket, country drawl, steps into the line of fire,
Block knows when she walks, her loyalty's a wire.
Vidale stands a shadow on the stoop — mouth shut, palms loud with threat,
Silence like a loaded coin: call it up and watch how debt is met.
(Verse 3 — The Brother's Call)
Three a.m., cracked phone, voice split in two — "Broc, I'm on Moore, I need you now,"
Concrete bleeding names I thought I left, sirens braided with my vow.
My brother's hands were trembling, pistol cold, breath like spilled ink,
He'd gambled on a corner that don't forgive the ones who blink.
I didn't want to come back, swore I buried that life under Tennessee pines,
But kin is a rope, and the phone pulled hard, dragged me over county lines.
I pulled in with
