Caleb Hyles - It's High Noon lyrics
[Caleb Hyles - It's High Noon lyrics]
Stopped you dead in your tracks
A flash and he’s at your back
And his pistol starts to draw
You can see in his eye
A villain that’s deep inside
And the hammer starts to fall
Outlaw bourbon drinking
Gunslinging Justice-bringing
Straight shooting son of a gun
He’s a no-good gallivanting
Peacekeeping vigilante train Hopping
Man on the run
And the sun in the sky
It’s hanging like high noon it’s High Noon
With a hat and cigar a cape and a metal arm
And a classic western Charm
Used to roll with a gang
But then he left with a bang
And the bullet found it’s mark
Outlaw, bourbon drinking
Gunslinging Justice-bringing
Straight-shootin son of a gun
He’s a no-good gallivanting
Peacekeeping vigilante
Train-hopping man on the run
And the sun in the sky
It’s hanging like high noon it’s High Noon
A fistful of pistol
His hat tipped, chin grizzled
A death wish from the hip
That glistened and whistled
And reloads with skilled rolls
Bullets whizzed and ripped holes
With quick wit's and true grit
His wrist hot, the dish cold
It’s High Noon! It’s High Noon!
It’s High Noon!
A flash and he’s at your back
And his pistol starts to draw
You can see in his eye
A villain that’s deep inside
And the hammer starts to fall
Outlaw bourbon drinking
Gunslinging Justice-bringing
Straight shooting son of a gun
He’s a no-good gallivanting
Peacekeeping vigilante train Hopping
Man on the run
And the sun in the sky
It’s hanging like high noon it’s High Noon
With a hat and cigar a cape and a metal arm
And a classic western Charm
Used to roll with a gang
But then he left with a bang
And the bullet found it’s mark
Outlaw, bourbon drinking
Gunslinging Justice-bringing
Straight-shootin son of a gun
He’s a no-good gallivanting
Peacekeeping vigilante
Train-hopping man on the run
And the sun in the sky
It’s hanging like high noon it’s High Noon
A fistful of pistol
His hat tipped, chin grizzled
A death wish from the hip
That glistened and whistled
And reloads with skilled rolls
Bullets whizzed and ripped holes
With quick wit's and true grit
His wrist hot, the dish cold
It’s High Noon! It’s High Noon!
It’s High Noon!