Mexico - Chely Wright

I wait on tables here

Ain’t quite how I planned it

Pay’s not that great, but I do alright in tips

I took the job to get me by

When my husband left me stranded

I still don’t know just where the hell he is

After dark, six nights a week

I pull this apron snug

Glance up at a dusty TV blaring local news

Then I’m everybody’s best friend

Dealing coffee like a drug

The whole place smells like fries and diesel fuel

Every shift is different

And every shift’s the same

Someone’s driving to the Promised Land

Or they’re running from the pain

It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and thieves

Everybody’s got somewhere to go

They all stop here on their way to Mexico

I still think about that gal

Who came from Tucumcari

Off to find her sister that she just found out she had

And those young lovers on the run

She wasn’t old enough to marry

Then the cops showed up with one really pissed off dad

Every shift is different

And every shift’s the same

Someone’s driving to the Promised Land

Or they’re running from the pain

It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and thieves

Everybody’s got somewhere to go

They all stop here on their way to Mexico

With each passing of a season

I wonder if I’m stuck

Or maybe I’m waitin' for a reason

Or a helping of good luck

It’s mostly long-haul truckers, runaways and me

Maybe I’ll head south again, who knows

We all stop here on our way to Mexico