rub-a-dub-dub
three guys in a clubcalled Boys Town
just across the Mexican line
and I was lookin' so
fine
when she came over to me
so fresh-faced
in what must have been
a blonde wig
i tried to read
her body language
but it was in Spanish
and the only words I
knew were quanto es?
and
while ultimately
legal tender
was exchanged
for counterfeit love
there was something there
that fit like a glove
and she wanted me to spend
the night
with the meter turned off
but
we were men of the road
and it was time to hit it
just outside of town
we spotted a peasant
lying prone in the ditch
drunk
or maybe dead
Jake stopped the car
and went sprinting back there
(thought maybe he was concerned)
but he came trotting back
with the man's hat in hand
and he wore that trophy
all the way to Panama
our code of the road
had been set
though we were still wet
behind the ears
we roared on outta there
lookin' for adventure
in whatever came our way
still eons away
from the day
when the sweet bird of youth
would take a massive crap
on our windshield
