Miguel came from a small town in northern Mexico.
  He came north with his brother Louis to California three years ago
  They crossed at the river levee, when Louis was just sixteen
  And found work together in the fields of the San Joaquin
    They left their homes and family
  Their father said, "My sons one thing you will learn,
  for everything the north gives, it exacts a price in return."
  They worked side by side in the orchards
  From morning till the day was through
  Doing the work the hueros wouldn't do.
    Word was out some men in from Sinaloa were looking for some hands
  Well, deep in Fresno county there was a deserted chicken ranch
  And there in a small tin shack on the edge of a ravine
  Miguel and Louis stood cooking methamphetamine
    You could spend a year in the orchards
  Or make half as much in one ten hour shift
  Working for the men from Sinaloa
  But if you slipped the hydriodic acid
  Could burn right through your skin
  They'd leave you spittin' up blood in the desert
  If you breathed those fumes in
    It was early one winter evening as Miguel stood watch outside
  When the shack exploded, lighting up the valley night
  Miguel carried Louis' body over his shoulder down a swale
  To the creekside and there in the tall grass, Louis Rosales died
  Miguel lifted Louis' body into his truck and then he drove
  To where the morning sunlight fell on a eucalyptus grove
  There in the dirt he dug up ten-thousand dollars. all that they'd saved
  Kissed his brothers lips and placed him in his grave