by Grace Slick
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Owsley and Charlie, twins of the trade,
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Come to the Poet's Room
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Talking about the problems of a leaf,
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And yes, it'll be back soon
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There used to be tons of gold and green
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Comin' up here from Mexico
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A donde esta la planta, mi amigo, del sol?
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[The translation is: "Where is the plant, my friend, of the sun."]
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But Mexico is under the thumb
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Of a man we call Richard
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And he's come to call himself king
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But he's a small-headed man
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And he doesn't know a thing
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About how to deal for you
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How to deal for you
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There are millions of you now
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I mean it's not as if you were alone
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There are brothers everywhere
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Just waiting for a toke on that gold
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And God knows how far it can go
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You're famous Uncle Charlie
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For your Mexican smoke
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You're a legend Owsley
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For your righteous dope
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There were a half a million people on the lawn
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And we sang to their faces in the dawn
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How long will that young race
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Wait for the jailer's time to end?
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How long will the Panther race
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Wait for the iron bars to bend?
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And no no no no no nobody waits
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Mexico
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| Jefferson Airplane |
