En las alturas de las Montañas
existe un pobre rancho,
una viejita todas las tardes
llora y suspira ahí:
triste es la vida así
quiero mejor morir
We’ve crossed this m**********r more than a couple times before
We’ve had more than a couple breakdowns, literally, figuratively
Well I figure it leaves us with no other option so we’ll stay on the side of the road
Just us alone unless someone gives us a loan
So we all look bored but we can’t afford it anymore than we could before
We’ll push that m**********r til it inevitably f***s us again
That means we get to arrive at home all broke and desperate for work
But somehow we’ll find a way to pain til something f***s us again
It must be nice to have ushers and riders and deli trays and whatever else they get served
Their music is played and they all get paid but I guess that’s what they deserve
And the band that plays for a grand tonight will probably just buy a new van tonight
But I guess they deserve it, their music’s more worth it and they know someone who knows someone
So f**k what you heard about the punk rock world
There is such a thing as guaranteed
It’s a rich get richer mentality
So we’ll stay on the side of the road stealing what we need to survive
Cause we don’t deserve the beer or deli trays tonight
