LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeHouston, We Got a Problem
This is my kind of townThis is my kind of placeI wouldn't mind hanging aroundFor more than just a couple daysI got a twelfth floor room with a killer viewOf the empty AstrodomeA tab at the bar downstairsBut all I can think about is homeI got my new boots, covered in red dirtA "Don't mess with Texas" T-shirtAnd a Lonestar postcard postmarked, I'm missing youIt's got the biggest sky you've ever seenThe coldest beer you'd ever drinkBut I still feel like I landed on the moonCause it ain't got youHouston, we got a problemYou should've seen 19th streetYou should've seen a midnight rodeoThe way them saloon doors swingWhen they line dance to Copperhead RoadSomething about the air down hereThat'll make you feel the way all them cowboys doI wish I was an outlawBut all I can think about is youI got my new boots, covered in red dirtA "Don't mess with Texas" T-shirtAnd a Lonestar postcard postmarked, I'm missing youIt's got the biggest sky you've ever seenThe coldest beer you'd ever drinkBut I still feel like I landed on the moonCause it ain't got youHouston, we got a problemIt's got the biggest sky you've ever seenThe coldest beer you'd ever drinkBut I still feel like I landed on the moonCause it ain't got youHouston, we got a problemWe got a problemWe got a problem
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