Pan-American Blues

a fifth on decoration day for the doctor

that fixed my arm. The federales back

from Tuscon, each one got an arm gone.

Limehouse Pratt got dim inside, can't see

the painted ladies runaround at night.

A wood-paneled room, my cigarette fumes

waltz and dissolve just for you.

There's gonna be a truce(x3) but

first you got to set your horses loose.

A jaguar simmering in a cage, give him

a chance, can you tell the answer from the

ants. History's got it's walking papers

can't get enough of the make-up

that makes it look so tough.

Well it ssssseems just like a freeze out (x3).



an undisclosed, deeply wooded

lose your way route.