Up all day, a-thinkin' like crazy I can't get sleep, I'm tired of waiting Along come a bus with a bunk fulla babies It pulled away, and nobody's waving
C'mon pretty lady, put a bullet in my heart Lie me on the streets and let the fiends rip me apart
We die, muchacho, vamanos I'm goin' down to Mexico
I'm goin' down to Mexico Down to Mexico, oh I'm going down to Mexico Down to Mexico, oh
We banditos Cheap gold sheep's wool Six-pack of Keystone Lookin' like street folk We don't need no Power to the people Heatstroke, chico One, two, three, four
We banditos Six-pack of Keystone Smellin' like street folk Keen-o, chico I can't see so Good, I think it's heatstroke Outside, in line At the bus depot
We die, muchachos, vamanos I'm goin' down to Mexico
I'm goin' down to Mexico Down to Mexico, oh I'm goin' down Mexico Down to Mexico, oh
Up all day, a-thinkin' like crazy I can't get sleep, I'm tired of waiting Along come a bus with a bunk fulla babies It pulled away and nobody's waving
C'mon pretty lady, put a bullet in my heart Lie me on the streets and let the fiends rip me apart
We die, muchacho, vamanos I'm goin' down to Mexico
I'm goin' down to Mexico Down to Mexico, oh I'm goin' down to Mexico Down to Mexico, oh
We banditos Cheap gold sheep's wool Six-pack of Keystone Lookin' like street folk We don't need no Power to the people Heatstroke, chico One, two, three, four
We banditos Six-pack of Keystone Smellin' like street folk Keen-o, chico I can't see so Good, I think it's heatstroke Outside, in line At the bus depot
C'mon pretty lady, put a bullet in my heart Lie me on the streets and let the fiends rip me apart
C'mon pretty lady, put a bullet in my heart Lie me on the streets and let the fiends rip me apart
C'mon pretty lady, put a bullet in my heart Lie me on the streets and let the fiends rip me apart
(To be alone is to live in a frightening world. A place where fears and insecurities can eat away like acid at the confused mind. There are many such young people today - afterthoughts of broken homes and selfish, unthinking parents. The young can grow like seeking roots in tortured, twisted ways.)