Last Ride from Blind Spot by The Lucky Losers

Can’t quit the noise, ringing in my head
Here come a big stick, swinging like lead
And the wildfires breach, the dead the dead dry line
And the wind is hammering at me, all the time
I am a witness, this is the storm
Give me a rope, tie the lariat to the horn

It’s a ride, it’s a ride
It’s a ride, it’s a ride
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives

Black jack king, on the thirty second floor
He got a bump stock rifle, and 22 more
Brought ‘em up in a suitcase, one by one
Now it’s raining down bullets, on Highway 91
Blood and grit, grease and spit
It’s an American night, on the Las Vegas strip

It’s a ride, it’s a ride
It’s a ride, it’s a ride
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives


Black-clad gunman, walked into a church
Fired on children, what can be worse
He jumped in his car, still spraying lead
Leaving 46 down, and 26 dead
Driving about 95, on 539
A neighbor shot him, call it a suicide

It’s a ride, it’s a ride
It’s a ride, it’s a ride
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives

An explosive September, brought a streak of good luck
a spectacular end, ‘tll the hurricanes struck
Now the earth shakes out, bigots liars and crooks
Got us all tied up in a slip knot loop
Blood and guts, grease and grime
And 45 rides up from behind

It’s a ride, it’s a ride
It’s a ride, it’s a ride
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives
Maybe the last ride, the last ride of our lives

• Blues
• Bluesy R&B
• Rock
• Soul
• The Apocalypse
• apocalypse
• blues rock
• female vocals
• gun violence
• harmony
• indie rock
• protest
• slide guitar
• San Francisco