The fierce Inca sun
beats down
on the tin roof,
got the mercury
topped out,
dead red
inside this swelter box
Still
I get a chill
‘cuz these third-world spooks
who brought me here
are colder than stone.
They caught a live rat
in their sticky trap,
got him in here,
tied to a chair,
waiting for me
to walk his talk
through the valley of hope.
Man, there ain’t no hope.
I already know
how his show’s
gonna end.
But I have to perform
(‘cuz it’s either me or him)
so when I begin
I’ll say:
It’s just you and me son.
Hijo, don’t be afraid.
I’m not like them.
I promise:
you´re gonna go home.
I’ll say it again,
again, again,
till I see in his eyes
he wants to believe,
cuz that´s all I need
to get under his skin.
When he starts to listen
I’ll say:
If you want to survive,
just take my hand
and
I’ll show you the way
out of this
snap-trap
for big rats,
man, those white-hats
out there
are the scariest rats
I’ve ever seen.
So choose, hijo: Me or them?
And I know he´ll choose me,
so to start reelin´him in
I’ll say:
I know you ain’t bad,
chico-man,
You’re just a peach-fuzz
little mouse
got his ass
caught
nibbling cheese.
Just this once
I can give you a pass.
You get to go home
if I get what I need.
Sooner or later
he’ll start to crack
because he wants so bad
to believe.
In this maze,
I’m the big cheese,
the hard cheese,
the head cheese,
the mind cheese.
When I set the trap,
they die to believe
that the whiff I’m givin’
is gonna be free,
and it draws them out
with the taste of freedom
on the tips of their tongues.
They all talk, they eventually do.
This one’s no different,
he’ll talk too.
When it’s over,
these local spooks
will dump his corpse
in front of his home.
I keep my promises.
I always do.
The fierce Inca sun
beats down
on the tin roof,
got the mercury topped out,
dead red
inside
this swelter box.
Still I feel a chill
because I know
I’m colder than stone.
The End