Get a bus, while I walking the beer start to get hot, hot beer is good too, have you been wonder how the people deal whit this before the freezers?, even more in hot places like this one, now a good one, a hot deep shot of black & full foam of beer, how the grandpa’s use to that?. You can park here man, the soldiers are coming behind us, and you smell like 300 cigarettes & joints, these are hot lands, full of dust, rolling stones, one blood color have the point of the leaf of fields of magueys, where the sacred Mescalero Bat fertilized her flowers, … liking the honey, honey this babe that have to leave us, the Mexican writer and journalist, Lydia Cacho was forced to leave Mexico after that received by phone several death threats she said; then in an interview I remembered that she said that this are the season of vultures, big fucking vultures that just going to steal the rest that we have as nation, she is right, pigs in tuxedos money laundering, bringing big blows of cocaine in their bathrooms pockets, the swine children grew up and are the new government, we have to deal with their indulged bullshit assholes with expensive make up. The little pigs’ rules by now, but all pigs pass to die by the butcher.
Another beer please… another hot one, take the train, la bestia, the passengers out in the night help you to get at the train, if you fell asleep probably die, get yourself secure tying your belt to some tube, welcome to the monte, cerros, mountains, I mean, hot by thunders noised by wind, burned by sun, while the trip come & see the heads of women & children, hanging from a bridge. If Jesus comes here by now, probably he will find his end hanged from a mesquite o in a high bridge murdered & tortured by zetas by the very holy permission of the monsignor, the state, God knows that 49 children died burned four years ago, next to the creche was some kind of office where there was some evidence of the shit corruption of a pig, so the state burned that evidence, but the fire consume also 49 souls, 49 children burned like little pigeons, holy shit!, until this day there is no justice. There are just broken fields & mirrors of a shit & false democracy, oh dude, bad boy, bad boy, what you gonna do when Babylon falls?
This is not bat country, this is vulture country; like whatever out there, swine, rats, snakes, sheep’s, coyotes … I recommended to you a coyote tattoo they are cool, coyotes are nahuales, they rule this hell night, a black one you must be, so in that order you can take a big joint to the porro, so the train is coming, choose the wrong way, and you will be another filthy body in the roads, full of bullets and ants in your mouth, swine justice, the train comes now, I need to take it, take the ride, thank God that the guerrilla reacts & the communitarian police, and the very same people are outgunned armed with the word and a shotgun, there are a lot of histories to tell, welcome bats to the vulture country.