Mexican Home John Prine
"Mexican Home" by John Prine, released in 1971, is a poignant folk song reflecting themes of nostalgia, longing, and cultural identity. The lyrics convey a yearning for a simpler life and the comforts of home, blending vivid imagery with emotional depth. Unique musical elements include Prine's storytelling style and acoustic arrangements. The song resonates with listeners, highlighting the universal search for belonging. #Folk
[Verse 1]
Well it got so hot last night, I swear you couldn't hardly breathe
Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol
I sat on the porch without my shoes and I watched the cars roll by
As the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall
[Chorus]
Mama dear, your boy is here, far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
And I feel a storm all wet and warm not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
[Guitar and Piano Solos]
[Verse 2]
Oh my God I cried, it's so hot inside you could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window, prop the door back with a broom
Well the cuckoo clock has died of shock and the windows feel no pain
The air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
[Chorus]
Mama dear, your boy is here, far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
And I feel a storm all wet and warm not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
Well it got so hot last night, I swear you couldn't hardly breathe
Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol
I sat on the porch without my shoes and I watched the cars roll by
As the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall
[Chorus]
Mama dear, your boy is here, far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
And I feel a storm all wet and warm not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
[Guitar and Piano Solos]
[Verse 2]
Oh my God I cried, it's so hot inside you could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window, prop the door back with a broom
Well the cuckoo clock has died of shock and the windows feel no pain
The air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
[Chorus]
Mama dear, your boy is here, far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
And I feel a storm all wet and warm not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
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