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)