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Mexico

A surrealist take on life, and letting go.

I could hear Los Lobos playing this one, maybe with Emmylou …

© 2013 Jonny Miller

Mexico – J. Miller

Down in old Mexico, there’s a little church,
and flowers grow, where they park the hearse.
Children sing, when it rains.
All souls are called,
but the flesh remains.

Down the road a spell, there’s a lonely tree,
by a dried up well, full of memories.
Children laugh, when the cold wind blows.
All stories are erased,
leaving only bones.

Down along the bay, there’s a ship that waits,
and the captain says, “you’ll never be late”.
Children shout, at the ebbing tide.
All baggage is cast,
leaving only light.

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