| The cops had the boys
|
| Up against the car
|
| Down Santa Monica Boulevard
|
| Baby food for the rich and sick
|
| Thank LA for spawning it
|
| High pile hair
|
| Low slung breasts
|
| The big hung boy
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| The deep cut dress
|
| Ran a chicken ranch
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| For a guy named Tex
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| Didn’t know who Tex
|
| Would bring home next
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| One from a slum
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| One who was a bum
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| One on the run
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| And somebody’s son
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| One whose mother was in on the kick
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| Baby food for the rich and sick
|
| There’s cops at the hatch
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| But she doesn’t even hear
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| She’s too busy practising Santeria
|
| Oh Chango Chango
|
| Oh Chango Chango
|
| Chango Chango won’t you bring me luck
|
| Plenty of money
|
| Oh yes! |
| And a little bit of love
|
| Trussed up tight
|
| On a mattress of thorns
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| Four limbs tied to the corner of the bed
|
| Mummy’s goodbyes ringing in my head
|
| Mummy’s goodbyes ringing in my head
|
| Goodbye, Goodbye
|
| There’s someone at the till
|
| And someone at the tools
|
| Hot brand iron
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| And a collar of steel
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| Somebody put my name on a runaway list
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| I never thought I’d get caught like this
|
| She’s down below at a coconut shrine
|
| Cryin' Chango Chango won’t you bring me a man
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| A man who is clean
|
| Who never acts mean
|
| And you know where he’s been
|
| Someone from a dream that is
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| Someone who’ll take me away from here
|
| ME! |
| The finest Madame in Mexico City
|
| Being Den Mother in a nursery
|
| I’d like to put them out of their misery
|
| But a gun to the temple don’t seem like me
|
| I’d like to put them out of their misery
|
| But a gun to the temple don’t seem like me |