Red Is the Color
STEVE EARLE
North wind blowin' like a hurricane house
Old man leanin' like he's pullin' a plow
Neck bowed, bendin' like a willow bough
Red sky color of the end of time
Bleeds dry runnin' down the center line
Wise guy pretends he doesn't see the signs
Bad news everybody talkin' 'bout
A short fuse a half an inch from burnin' out
All used up beyond a reasonable doubt
Make way for his majesty the prodigal king
Still taste the poison when you're kissin' the ring
Don't say he never gave you anything
Deep breath the calm before the storm begins
Cold sweat pretend that you ain't listenin'
Don't bet on gettin' by with that again
Short ride from here to where the beast resides
Fine line that separates the shadows inside
Make mine a double shot of cyanide