Brass rings in the Santa Ana wind
With a red sunset goin down
Double lines on a gravel road
Riding where nobody goes
And I'm addicted to his leather and smoke
Give me a black motorcycle Give me playback on a vinyl
And some cheap aviators
from 65 (breathe)
Give me snake skin boots
Skull swaying like a noose
And I'll be clinging on the back of this Indian bike
He's my nicotine, I'm his desert queen
worn out bandana tied around my neck
Call it Bonnie and Clyde, a modern day ride or die
And I'm convicted, "25 to life".
We damn sure know where we've been
But we don't know where we're going
