The Border - Rodney Crowell, John Jorgenson

I work on the border

I see what I see

I work on the border

And it’s workin' on me

I lie awake at night

Knowing what I know

There’s a price on the head of

Every border patrol

Where the smugglers do business

That’s where I make a stand

I know this old desert

Like the back of my hand

I see greed in the bushes

I see snakes in the dark

Some are friends of my brothers

Can’t you hear them dogs bark?

I come home to Maria

At the end of the day

In the shape of a shadow

Holding demons at bay

It’s just the border, they say

It was Mexican soldiers

Out of a black Humvee

With their guns to their shoulders

Aimed at my partner and me

Ah, they drove away laughing

But the message was clear:

We don’t care about nothing

But the money down here

I come home to Maria

In a bulletproof vest

With the weight of the whole wide world

Bearing down on my chest

It’s just the border, I guess

From the shacks and the shanties

Come the hungry and poor

Some to drown at the crossing

Some to suffer no more

I guess you heard about Campos

And Ramien

Both of 'em friends of mine

Both good men

They did one right thing

And look what they got

Federal prison

Where they’re both gonna rot

I come home to Maria

Where else would I go?

Across the river to die by myself

Down in old Mexico?

It’s just the border, you know