| Sundown on the San Joaquim
|
| An old woman walks home from work
|
| Another day in the fields another day in the dirt
|
| She lights a sacred candle
|
| Next to a faded photograph
|
| And she says a prayer for a man
|
| Who fell between the cracks
|
| She stares at the photo of a young man
|
| Who caused so much pain
|
| In countless twelve round blood baths
|
| Kid Hey Zeus was his name
|
| He was the pride of the valley
|
| Until the night he stayed down on his back
|
| When he took the dive he disappeared
|
| Down between the cracks
|
| She said Jesus born a poor boy
|
| On the wrong side of the tracks
|
| He rose again but not before
|
| He fell between the tracks
|
| She re-reads all the letters
|
| That he wrote her from L. A
|
| He said please don’t worry about me
|
| I’ll come back again someday
|
| But she hears the other stories
|
| Whispered behind her back
|
| About a shooting in a grocery store
|
| Somewhere between the cracks
|
| She said Jesus born a poor boy
|
| On the wrong side of the tracks
|
| He rose again but not before
|
| He fell between the tracks
|
| Sunrise on the San Joaquim
|
| An old woman walks off to work
|
| Another day in the fields another day in the dirt
|
| She looks around at all the children
|
| Dropping rich mens fruit in the sacks
|
| And she says a prayer for everyone
|
| Trapped between the cracks
|
| She said Jesus born a poor boy
|
| On the wrong side of the tracks
|
| He rose again but not before
|
| He fell between the tracks
|
| He rose again but not before
|
| He fell between the tracks |