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The black tar cuts the reservations. Heat waves rise like steam on tea. Each spring the cactus flowers blossom. Broken glass shimmers like the sea. I see no evidence of Natives As billboards glide across the sand. The east coast papers tell no stories Of what lies hidden in these lands.
Chorus: Aye yi yi the sun sure glistens On the rusted trucks and the big R.V.'s. Aye yi yi the cacti listen, To the devils in the dust, To the dark below the crust, To the drone, of homeless memories.
Miguel, Jose, and Carmelita Died in the summer Yuma heat. Jorge fashioned them 3 crosses From stones he gathered at their feet. Henry found them 3 days later. He touched the star upon his chest. He thinks about a girl in Tucson. He'll think of anything but this.
The black tar cuts the reservations. At dusk snakes come out to feel the heat. Scorpions with tails of lightning As fast as dreams on linen sheets. I see no evidence of Natives As billboards glide across the sand. The west coast papers tell no stories Jorge and Henry understand.
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