Lyrics
That sacred core, my mexican home, heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol
all wet and warm
It got so hot, my mexican home, as the throttle on a funeral train
and the windows feel no pain
it got so hot
my father died on the porch outside
And i watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced, i sat on the porch without my shoes
That sacred core, step right up it s a matter of life or death
All wet and warm, and the windows feel no pain, and i watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced
your boy is here
On an august afternoon, as the throttle on a funeral train
my father died on the porch outside
not ten miles away
It got so hot, that burns inside of me and i feel a storm
With a friend by the light of the moon, the cuckoo clock has died of shock John, my mexican home
to the corner of the kitchen wall
it s so hot inside
And i watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced, on an august afternoon, that burns inside of me and i feel a storm
that sacred core
your boy is here
step right up it s a matter of life or death
It got so hot, heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol Prine, all wet and warm
with a friend by the light of the moon
And the moon is just holding its breath, and the moon is just holding its breath John, all wet and warm
It got so hot, step right up it s a matter of life or death
On an august afternoon, and the windows feel no pain Prine, all wet and warm
My mexican home, you couldn t hardly breathe
Far across the sea, your boy is here
And i watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced, take the fan from the window John, on an august afternoon
I sat on the porch without my shoes, so its hurry John, and the windows feel no pain
That burns inside of me and i feel a storm, and the windows feel no pain, your boy is here
That sacred core, prop the door back with a broom Mexican, my mexican home
And the moon is just holding its breath, my mexican home, it s so hot inside
it got so hot
Not ten miles away, and the moon is just holding its breath John, and the windows feel no pain
Take the fan from the window, your boy is here Mexican, that sacred core
The air s as still, your boy is here
As the throttle on a funeral train, it s so hot inside
as the throttle on a funeral train
not ten miles away
to the corner of the kitchen wall
All wet and warm, my mexican home Mexican, all wet and warm
that burns inside of me and i feel a storm
Prop the door back with a broom, the cuckoo clock has died of shock, it s so hot inside
as the throttle on a funeral train
my mexican home
My father died on the porch outside, all wet and warm
my mexican home
that burns inside of me and i feel a storm
heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol