Juan Simon

It's the story of a sick man
Many illnesses he had
He worked all day
Cleaning rooftops
Cars, windows, and sidewalks
He had a bicycle
Which was stolen by the way
Flat tires on both wheels
But this dude kept going

He didn't have money for food
He didn't even have money for underwear
And when he earned something
He'd shoot back some beers
Then he'd crave more
Buy his little alcohol
And get wasted
He'd fall asleep on any corner
He'd get a fever, asthma, and rheumatism
Two bucks in each eye
Arthritis in his ears
Poor dude, you're screwed and you have no medicine
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay

He didn't have much family
He didn't have a father or mother
He was only not in jail
For having killed
His goddaughter
Because she wouldn't give him a drink

His sister was a prostitute, a drug addict, and a gang member
The gang passed her around
Like she was a ball
And one Sunday morning
The man in question
Lying on a sidewalk
Died from congestion
His name was Juan Simon
And he was only 10 years old
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay

His sister was a prostitute, a drug addict, and a gang member
The gang passed her around
Like she was a ball
And one Sunday morning
The man in question
Lying on a sidewalk
Died from congestion
His name was Juan Simon
And he was only 10 years old
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay