I stand underneath the lights.
My best friend he tells me it’s all right.
I see the sun come through the window;
I wish I had a longer cable,
to feel the heat, coming in between the blinds.
And I think; “how much gas is in my tank?
Enough to head south, cross the entire lone star state?
Catch a real life armadillo;
make a home out of a pueblo?
Over all mother earths rivers and mans imaginary lines?”
maybe then, I’d feel all right.
On my way out of control I saw a sign, it said:
“Welcome to Mexico”
But don’t get me wrong,
I’ve been cruising around for so long.
I tread water deep up to my thighs,
its cold as ice, but today I don’t mind.
I feel the panic of my life chasing the joy of my good time;
I wish amnesia was something you could buy.
And I think: “how much gas is in my tank?
Enough to head south towards Paracho,
pick up a Quattro on the way?
Catch a real life Chupacabra,
make my way towards the jungle,
over all mother earths rivers and mans imaginary lines”
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