listen all you brothers and sisters,
all you amigos and senoritas.
we all have times like these,
these are our times.
problem with getting what you want,
is the satisfying.
only lasts about a minute or two, don't it,
always thought we would feel better.
our sorry lot just asks for more,
begging like beggars for acceptance.
never understanding who they are,
or why they were able to live this life.
a box of bones await that man,
dust kicking up as he walks the road.
for me, i'm a grateful sort,
grateful for starlets and neon lights and
the brightness of a texico night.