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

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