Pan-American Blues

A fifth on decoration day for the doctor
That fixed my arm. The federales back
From Tuscon, each one got an arm gone.
Limehouse Pratt got dim inside, can't see
The painted ladies runaround at night.
A wood-paneled room, my cigarette fumes
Waltz and dissolve just for you.
There's gonna be a truce(x3) but
First you got to set your horses loose.
A jaguar simmering in a cage, give him
A chance, can you tell the answer from the
Ants. History's got it's walking papers
Can't get enough of the make-up
That makes it look so tough.
Well it ssssseems just like a freeze out
(X3). an undisclosed, deeply wooded
Loose your way route.