text: Miguel came from a small town
  In northern Mexico
  He came north with his brother Luis
  To California three years ago
  They crossed at the river levee
  When Luis was just sixteen
  And found work together in the fields of the San Joaquin
  They left their homes and family
  Their father said, My sons, one thing you will learn
  For everything the north gives
  It exacts a price in return
  They worked side by side in the orchards
  From morning until the day was through
  Doing the work the hueros wouldnt do
  Word was out some men in from Sinaloa
  Were looking for some hands
  Well, deep in Fresno county
  There was a deserted chicken ranch
  There in a small tin shack
  On the edge of a ravine
  Miguel and Luis stood cooking methamphetamine
  You could spend a year in the orchards
  Or make half as much in one ten-hour shift
  Working for the men from Sinaloa
  Ah, but if you slipped
  The hydriodic acid
  Could burn right through your skin
  Theyd leave you spitting up blood in the desert
  If you breathed those fumes in
  It was early one winter evening
  As Miguel stood watch outside
  When the shack exploded
  Lighting up the valley night
  Miguel carried Luiss body over his shoulder
  Down a swale to the creek side
  And there in the tall grass Luis Rosales died
  Miguel lifted Luis body
  Into his truck, and then he drove
  To where the morning sunlight fell
  On a eucalyptus grove
  There in the dirt he dug up ten thousand dollars
  All that theyd saved
  Kissed his brothers lips and placed him in his grave