Ross Ryan - Look Out For The Ricochet

I’m gonna put a bullet through the radio
Trash my TV and turn it into a barbecue
Drag out my 45s
Stack ‘em way up high
And crank me out some good ‘ol country juice

Well can you tell me if I’m crazy?
Is it what or is it me?
But how come no one seems to play
The music from that golden age
When the angels set down in Tennessee

When guitar players didn’t wear no girlie makeup
No Silicone Valley drum machines
And Patsy Cline didn’t need to shake her goodies
On the cover of no chicken suckin’ Playboy Magazine

Well I’ve got one straight shot
Here I come ready or not
Just lean back and fire away
And look out for the ricochet

Well I’m not the kind of man
Who takes violence for granted
There’s a time for confrontation
When there’s no room left to fight
And I refuse to just stand by
And watch my music slowly die
While we’re wastin’ time readin’ folks their rights

I wanna hear the sound of heartbreak steel guitars
And the story of some drifter’s sad decline
With the kind of harmonies that would weaken any knee
It’s enough to make you wanna lay your head down and cry