Went down to Oaxaca for a three week stretch
On a bus ride meant to test my faith
I leaned with the curves and I held my breath
It made the drinking water taste almost safe
I disembarked and kissed the road
It was dirty -- it was made of dirt
Surrounded by faces that I don’t know
I guess home is where your eyes don’t hurt
“Quiero pesos para el nino aqui?”
Just a little slice of that American Dream
Heaven help ‘em but don’t they know
That I’ve got nothin that’s worth a thing

In Zipolite there’s a horseshoe beach
And I slept out in a hammock there
A few tequilas and I could reach
The water on a waft of air
I spent my days beneath the sun
Joined the little kids in the poundin’ surf
Made a castle with this boy ‘fore he had to run
To take his brother’s place at work
It ain’t like when I was young
The horror of that schoolbell’s ring
Sixteen years and just to know
That I’ve got nothin that’s worth a thing

Out late in the marketplace
Grande hoopla and crap for cheap
Chocolate-covered crickets and horse-hair lace
And little eyes and hands of thieves
I felt the hand inside my pack
I missed the face but all he took
Was stuff you bring you don’t need back
A couple candles and softback books
I laughed at what the image brings
Of the pick-pocket poet-king
But all there is is all there seems
That I’ve got nothin that’s worth a thing

I crossed back without much fuss
Just poles with mirrors and men with guns
To tickle the belly of the bus
And check the stickers on my rum
My driver’s license and some shoot the shit
They saw I’s square and sent me through
But they made the guy behind me sit
And wait to talk to god knows who
They let me by it’s plain to see
That buslag and freedom’s ring
Was all that I could claim to bring
And I’ve got nothin that’s worth a thing

Copyright 2001. Words and music by Danny Schmidt