He's just your average bordertown riff-raff thumbed a ride out of El Paso, crossed that line in the desert sand, headed south where the cocaine grows. Running from child-support, bills and rent, speaking broken spanish with a southern accent, searching for a place to rest his bones. Met a senorita so young and full of life who over a margarita he asked to be his wife, and they settled down and made themselves a home. But there wasn't enough Tequila in all of Mexico to satisfy the thirst of his dry and thirsty soul, and once again the drifter began to roam.
Monday, August 31, 2009
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