Jayhawks. Blue Earth. Red Firecracker. Zeneszám

His jaw crawd and tobacco dripped
Down his chin
His face settled on the neon lights
Reflected in
His face settled on the neon lights
Reflected in

Red firecracker, it don't explode
There's a picture in his mind passed down
And it feels like going home

Calculates all the cash he makes
At happy hour
Two bullet-holes took the best
Suit he owns
Two bullet-holes took the best
Suit he owns

Red firecracker, it don't explode
There's a picture in his mind passed down
And it feels like going home

Quick sand all around the man
Bad history
I suppose, there's a better way
To calm him down