kolte
April 17th, 2006, 01:14 PM
This is a story,
A La Mexican story,
Of a boy,
And his home,
In the Streets of Guadalajara
a child ran down the road to buy fajita
no socks and shoes upon his little...feet’ a
a small stand with a dirty old man at the end of the street’ a
the filthy boy said hola nice to...meet ya
he stole some pesos
El police have no trace’ os
The thief boy ran like hell
leaving no foot trail
In the dead of the night he reached to border and saw the popo
money bag in hand he started climbing right over
he jumped down on the us side without the assistance of a rope’ a
narrowly escaping border patrol’ a
VILLATORO
(random screaming)
In the land of the sand with the dirty old man were there is no naysay
he ran and he ran and he ran and he ran till he got the USA
VILLATORO
(more screaming at random)
(small yip from the crowed)
A La Mexican story,
Of a boy,
And his home,
In the Streets of Guadalajara
a child ran down the road to buy fajita
no socks and shoes upon his little...feet’ a
a small stand with a dirty old man at the end of the street’ a
the filthy boy said hola nice to...meet ya
he stole some pesos
El police have no trace’ os
The thief boy ran like hell
leaving no foot trail
In the dead of the night he reached to border and saw the popo
money bag in hand he started climbing right over
he jumped down on the us side without the assistance of a rope’ a
narrowly escaping border patrol’ a
VILLATORO
(random screaming)
In the land of the sand with the dirty old man were there is no naysay
he ran and he ran and he ran and he ran till he got the USA
VILLATORO
(more screaming at random)
(small yip from the crowed)