| Well I packed all of my things into this blanket
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| To call this year to earn coyotes fill
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| Kiss my wife and kids goodbye choke back the quiver in my breath
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| And took my first steps into this corridor of death
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| If I’m lucky I will make it to a drain
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| With 500 of my brothers, I would share the strain
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| Of standing in this boxcar praying for rain
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| It’s the only the way we will quench our thirst
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| In these gardens of white crosses
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| Growing in the California sand
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| In these gardens of white crosses
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| We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
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| If we make it past the border, we will scatter
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| Vanish just like smoke in autumn wind
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| I will run until my color will not matter
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| Hopin' I can find some work or possibly a friend
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| There are others who have made it here
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| They will show me how to find a job and a place to lay my head
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| And I cannot be concerned with dreams of my children
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| For there are 5 others in line for my bed
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| In these gardens of white crosses
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| Growing in the California sand
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| In these gardens of white crosses
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| We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
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| I will gladly pick your peaches or clean your hotel rooms
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| I will do the jobs American won’t do
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| With cell phones to their heads and $ 700 dollar shoes
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| I will risk my life ‘cause it’s all I have to lose
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| Let the devil in the mountains promise me a ride
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| Found an 18 wheeler and put all of us inside
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| And just outside of victory, 19 of us died
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| None of our bodies hit the floor
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| And so my wife she still wonders when I’m coming home
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| The riches that I promised her for leaving her alone
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| I said I would send her all that I could save
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| But I ended up in California in an unknown grave
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| In these gardens of white crosses growing in the California sand
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| In these gardens of white crosses we are the children of poverty trying to a
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| make a stand |