Turn the lights out, shut the window, burn your old clothes, don't use the telephone, steal the next car, drive to Mexico. Back on the outskirts, past the meadow, this Honda van will take you to anywhere: Its lower middle-class, but it'll drive you fast.
The siren cried when we saw them come. So we stand here stuck on the border, its far from hell, yet too close too America. Don't go back, back to the one you love: There'll be trouble...
Girl in the next room, called the doctor. Doctor called the cops and the family. Hard for a young man to hear his mother cry.
She's sitting on the porch, waiting for the mailman to arrive! Three lines, tucked in a letter, words so violent almost left me blind. If you go back, back to the one you love, there'll trouble...
If Loretta arrives tomorrow, would you tell her about this song? So you stole a little money but then you had to get caught and now you have to spend your whole life trying to escape from the law. The Busies and the Dibbles are heading round the block, you're looking down the window and you can't resist to draw. You stole a little money, but now you lost it all and what remains is just the same as what remains in the song.
There's a nomad in my Mustang, trying to run away from the enemy. On my last stand like a little man, standing face to face with the enemy.
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