We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
"Senor, senor, do you know where we're headin'? Lincoln County Road or Armageddon? Seems like I been down this way before. Is there any truth in that, senor?
Senor, senor, do you know where she is hidin'? How long are we gonna be ridin'? How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door? Will there be any comfort there, senor?
There's a wicked wind still blowin' on that upper deck, There's an iron cross still hanging down from around her neck. There's a marchin' band still playin' in that vacant lot Where she held me in her arms one time and said, "Forget me not."
Senor, senor, I can see that painted wagon, I can smell the tail of the dragon. Can't stand the suspense anymore. Can you tell me who to contact here, senor?"
From "Senor (Tales Of Yankee Power)," off Street Legal. Download a live version of this song from 1994 at the link here.