Mexico

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