If I had my way
I’d cross the desert to the sea
Learn to speak in tongues something
That makes sense to you and me
I’d like to unplug the phone
Sending messages with a mirror
Stand on the old plateau
With a satellite dish and Geronimo’s ghost
Down in the Rio Del Sol
I sunk my suitcase alone
Filled up the Amazon
With snakes and vines and ropes for my clothes
Me and Jane Doe and Rousseau
We’ve got nowhere to go
Walking through cactus and stones
With our bare hands mining for gold
Down in the city so cold
Shining like razors in the sun
You can go there anytime that you like
And try to find happiness from a gun