Lyrics The Mess Hall - Tijuana 500

I might leave for Tijuana Mexico.
She left a will,
I took nothing but the soup bone.
Eight hundred pesos
Crying in my pocket,
Going aahhhh.

The night came with a belly full of liquor
Standing on the street,
Waiting for the mule to reinvent herself
In the shape of a horse or a zebra,
Going

All I need is a place to fall.

I ended up in La Mesa on the border,
The kind of place,
They take the lambs to the slaughter.
Eight hundred Pesos
No longer in my pocket crying
Aahhhhh

I made bail wiped the slate clean,
Mexico City no longer on my brain.
I found a little place to call home.

All I need is a place to fall.