Текст Luke Combs – Houston, We Got A Problem

This is my kind of town
This is my kind of place
I wouldn’t mind hanging around
For more than just a couple days

I got my new boots, covered in red dirt
A «Don’t mess with Texas» T-shirt
And a Lonestar postcard postmarked, I’m missing you
It’s got the biggest sky you’ve ever seen
The coldest beer you’d ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon
Cause it ain’t got you
Houston, we got a problem

You should’ve seen 19th street
You should’ve seen a midnight rodeo
The way them saloon doors swing
When they line dance to Copperhead Road
Something about the air down here
That’ll make you feel the way all them cowboys do
I wish I was an outlaw
But all I can think about is you

I got my new boots, covered in red dirt
A «Don’t mess with Texas» T-shirt
And a Lonestar postcard postmarked, I’m missing you
It’s got the biggest sky you’ve ever seen
The coldest beer you’d ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon

It’s got the biggest sky you’ve ever seen
The coldest beer you’d ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon
Cause it ain’t got you
Houston, we got a problem
We got a problem
We got a problem