Hunting Hellfires

Chrome and steel on an open highway

Sixty-seven black sedan

Carry the weight of the family

business

Living on salt and a loaded hand

Keep the ghosts in the rearview

mirror

Keep the shadows in the dark (oh-oh)

Driver picks the tunes

Shotgun shuts his mouth

We're heading where the cold wind blows

Deep into the

south

Saving people, hunting things (yeah)

leather jacket worn at the collar

running on cheap diner coffee and pie

no rest for the weary hunter

underneath a Kansas sky

Two brothers on a road to nowhere

Carry on,

carry on (ahhhh)

Driver picks the tunes... (mmm-hmm)