Clip vidéo
Titres les plus populaires de Michael Hinckley
Crédits
INTERPRÉTATION
Michael Hinckley
Guitare
Kenny Varga
Piano
Mark Evitts
Cordes
Corey Congilio
Guitare
Tim Denbo
Basse
William Ellis
Batterie
Mark Vikingstad
Chœurs
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Michael Hinckley
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Kenny Varga
Ingénierie de mixage
Kazuri Arai
Ingénierie
Pete Lyman
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Soul Voltage and Coop DeVille Nashville TN
Ingénierie de prise de son
Infrasonic Mastering
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Paroles
We hitched a ride to Aguila last summer, off the highway to LA
Heard about some Mexicans making a killing compared to the wages we made
We'd been cutting grass and cutting trees, tryin' to cut the hell right out of Phoenix
Didn't pack a thing, didn't say goodbye
Rolled into town as the sun went down
Pulled out a bottle and passed it around
And praised Aguila
We made it through another day
So tonight let's dance and say our fortune has changed
When you're poor that's a lie you say
We laid in the dirt of an abandoned church for shelter our very first night
Cuddled up beneath a painting of the Garden of Eden, torn in some forgotten fight
Soon we were picking fruit out in the heat, 16 hours a day, 7 days a week
Eatin' out of the trash just to survive
We took a break as the sun went down
So they could, pull out the lights and we'd pick another round
And prais Aguila
We burned through another day
You could spend all your life to write your name in the sand
When you're poor it just blows away
Lourdes started getting hungry stares from old caballeros, hadn't seen a woman in a while
I said let's head for the desert, we'll take turns fighting off coyotes at night
And I promise, babe, we'll get out of this waste, I just need another hundred or two
But then one day I got back late
And found Lourdes lying there in the cactus flowers
Her blood starting to bloom
When the time came I couldn't buy her a grave, I wrote her name in a concrete slab
At the service station outside of Payson on my way up north to pick apples
And I hope someday some child sees her name and says, "she must have been beautiful"
For some poor man to leave her name in this place
Praise Aguila, Oh, Aguila, Oh, Aguila
Writer(s): Michael Hinckley
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