I was 17, working all night
Eyes sharp with no sleep
And my girl she's sweet
She brought me orange juice,
Snuck a braid in my hair
And we drove to the sea
Bodies laced in the waves
A crest of cold salt on my face
Her hands on my neck, then my waist
Our bodies washed in the wake
Before not too long it was hot days in the park, long nights in her car
I met her family
Her father delt yayo and leaves with her uncles
Her mother made ceviche and said,
"Besame flaco y mira los ojos"
Before not too long I packed up and moved town
To the deep down south
And I gave my sweet a painting to keep
"I heard the air's thick as thieves,
Heard they keep their dead above ground there"
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