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A song I did for a 48-hour compo, rearranged with Roy F. McClanahan
lyrics
I'm walkin' Michoacán hot, dizzy and tired, a beatup old lonely mercenary for hire,
but today runnin' and gunnin' just isn't the way, hard to make a good living when crime doesn't pay
sold my last 2 guns for 6 measly pesos, hit the up the local bar so I can get me some refrescos,
Cervesa Por Favor, I say to the tender, hand 'em all the money that I had when I entered
I take a drink, and lament about bein' poor, when I notice a sign right beside the door,
Necesitamos Mas Musicas Aqui, The bar needs a musician, as I could plainly see
usually I kill machachos for a fee, but today I'm fatty hurtin' for that cash money,
I can't play the guitar, but I can play the synth keys, I think it's time for Cybernetic Mariachi
CHORUS:
HEY HEY, HEY HEY, HEY HEY
Cybernetic Mariachi
(repeat)
I went to the pawn shop later that day, sold my chainsaw and picked up LSDJ,
I also grabbed the gameboy I stole from some guy and the twin famicom that I had since I was five.
I kick the bar door open, it goes silent, a couple gringos look like they're about to get violent,
the tender says, "Que quieres hombre?" I look him straight in the eye, "Tocar musica..." I'm your guy,
And then I play.... And then I play.... I play those Aztec square and pulse wavessss,
from my heritage I let it loose, and hit the d-pad to turn up the juice,
I see a bonita shake her caboose, I turn it up so high I blow a fuse,
Just then a dark figured man appears from the back points a pistola at my nutsack,
just when my heart really begins to throb He tells me that I got the job, Cybernetic Mariachi!
CHORUS
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