A hand,
buried in the sand,
some unknown man,
some homeless man,
about who people did not give a damn,
a man who was found upside down,
with bullets through him,
and flies buzzing around,
a case of mistaken identity in Mexico,
where drug dealers do not give a damn,
they do not give a damn,
homeless and helpless,
probably,
in the desert hotter than a frying pan,
in Mexico,
with drugs to go, go, go,
as many as you like,
a place where you are likely to die in the crossfire,
and be buried where you do not desire,
but unfortunately, many do,
in the desert, where they are eternally damned,
damned before they are dead,
and damned well before they plan,
yes, Mexico with drugs to go, go, go,
cuckoo, and bang, bang, bang,
as evil souls fill holes,
and drugs are far too often the masters of their destinies,
in an unforgiving drug addled land.
