home

Hey, thanks a lot Johnny, it's all I could do to drag the needle across this tonight. I'm pretty much through with caring about much else (for at least a little while).

"It got so hot, last night, I swear, you couldn't hardly breathe,
Heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol,
I sat on the porch without my shoes, and I watched the cars roll by,
As the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall ....

My God! I cried, it's so hot inside, you could die in the living room,
Take the fan from the window, prop the door back with a broom,
The cuckoo clock has died of shock, and the windows feel no pane,
The air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train ...

Mama dear, your boy is here, far across the sea,
Waiting for that sacred core that burns inside of me,
And I feel a storm, all wet and warm not ten miles away,
Approaching my Mexican home."

- Prine's Mexican Home