Talkin' Back From Tequila
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Sunset's burnin' like a shot down my throat. Neon whispers sayin', "Man,
don't go." But I'm past the point of no turnin' around. My head's still
spinnin' and boots stuck to the ground. I've been dancin' with trouble since
quarter to two. Every glass I raise keeps raisin' hell, too.
It's got that fire, it's got that bite, it's got my
soul in a fist tonight. I'm talkin' back from tequila. Spittin' words I
don't mean. Laughin' loud, leanin' sideways in a smoke-filled scene.
She's pourin' fuel on my fever. Eyes like a loaded gun. I'm talkin' back
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