Ramiro de Leon

They won’t
Believe
My friends
I was
Poorer
Than you
Also
I was
A farmer
Respectful
Of the laws
But the times
We live in
Playing
Clean
You can’t
Do it
I had to
Get by
With the rich
In my town
I planted
My sesame
On a fallow
Hilltop
They paid me
Two
Thousand
I never made
Even the money

Now
My crops
Are different
From before
I don’t even
Remember
I started
Thinking
About things
I wanted to show off
A new car
And I planted
Just weed
On the hillside

Now
I’m
Real fancy
They call me
Mr. So-and-so
I’ve got two
Or three
Lovers
And a few trucks
From this year
Money
To spend
Now
I live
Drinking
And if
Things get wild
Then cash
When he
Stuffed
Two
Three bundles
Of those
That have
The deer
The cops
And the thugs
Even scratch
My hands

Let the truckers
Sing to me
My ballads
And songs
Because in the end
I won’t
Take
The millions
To the grave
Bring beer
Bartender
Because in the end
The hill
Will respond