Well, it got so hot last night I swear you couldn't hardly breathe Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol I sat on the porch without my shoes and watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea searching for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel the storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
`My God', I cried, `it's so hot inside you could die in the living room' Take the fan out of the window, prop the door back with a broom The cuckoo clock has died of shock and the windows feel no pane and the air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea searching for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel the storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
My father died on the porch outside on an August afternoon I sipped bourbon and I cried with a friend by the light of the moon Now its "Hurry, hurry! Step right up! It's a matter of life or death" The sun is going down and the moon is just holding its breath
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea waiting for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
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Copy to Clipboard: Well, it got so hot last night I swear you couldn't hardly breathe Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol I sat on the porch without my shoes and watched the cars roll by as the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea searching for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel the storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
`My God', I cried, `it's so hot inside you could die in the living room' Take the fan out of the window, prop the door back with a broom The cuckoo clock has died of shock and the windows feel no pane and the air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea searching for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel the storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
My father died on the porch outside on an August afternoon I sipped bourbon and I cried with a friend by the light of the moon Now its "Hurry, hurry! Step right up! It's a matter of life or death" The sun is going down and the moon is just holding its breath
Mama dear, your girl is here, far across the sea waiting for that sacred core that burns inside of me and I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away, approaching my Mexican home
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