Your magic mattress from Mazunte. A Belgian boy that you wed in Zipolite. And it's twelve long hours to Palenque with a thirty pound sack of granola natural. I hear you baby. You're hearing voices from above. I hear you baby. You've got a line on cool hand love. Cool hand. You keep reminding me you only sleep with locals. And the local boys all love you but they can't pronounce your name. We search the dictionary for Spanish words for discipline. Or truth, disaster, maybe they're the same. I hear you baby. You get your lines from up above. I see you baby. You've got the sign of cool hand love. Cool hand. Now you're talking. You're talking, talking, talking, talking. You never talk it out again. You got a picture of Johnny Cash from a Dutch tattooist with his finger on the fun. He's got a wife, she gives us confidence. Says even though we're filthy, we're not really ever done. I hear you baby. You're hearing angels from above. Yeah, I hear you baby. You've got a line on cool hand love. Cool hand love. Now you're rolling in it. You're push, push, pushing on it. You're never getting out again. I hear you talking. Talking, talking, talking, talking, talking. You're never getting out again. Out again. I got your bottle of milky green hallucinogens. I've got a porn star and tramadol. I think a lot about all the things I could have been. I stick around and get away from it all. I hear you baby. You're hearing voices from above. I hear you baby. You've got the line on cool hand love. You cool hand. Cool hand love.