| Gather around me my good friends 'cause I got a tale to tell
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| About a man who shot me once, and this wound still feels like hell
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| I was riding high after a wild night, and I saw a man in red
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| And I told him hey, you’re in my way, and he said you’re good as dead
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| He was mean and part machine, his shotgun’s thunder burst
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| His lead hit home, I hit the dirt, even though I drew first
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| He’d won the gunplay, all in fair play, but I had to know
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| The reason why, he wore crimson, red from head to toe
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| And I was bleeding out, but the man in red, said boy you listen close
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| And I’ll explain the genesis of the color of my choice
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| He said
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| When I was young, my daddy took me to a bullring far from town
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| To man me up and make me tough, so I’d never back down
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| I felt the rise of the bull’s eyes when it saw the cape blood red
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| I knew right then, the hue for which I’d been born and bred
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| So heed this warning, avoid this man, good night and so long
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| You can forget the singer, but don’t forget the song |