Don’t mess with Howard
He’s got wildcatter’s blood
Slammed into Santa Ana
Rose like a Texas flood
Faster than a bullet
From the muzzle of a gun
And he made 352 on the last run
Shake
32k brake
Die for a kerosene high
There
In the jetstream layer
Where vapour in vermillion cries
He flew so high
He flew so high
He flew so high
He flew so high
Paid no heed to Icarus
Turned into the sun
352 on the last run
Who’d mess with Howard
But the microbe threat
They’re in the soap
They’re on the serviette
It’s the little things that get you
After all the things you’ve done
But he made 352 on the last run