Miguel came from a small town in northen 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

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 brother's lips and placed him in his grave