The mexican sunset goes down easier when you are a rich white man sucking off the teat of the countries’ tourist trade.
Trading tourists for cash in the back alley just to get some cheap booze and a pack of cigarettes in these hard times. The tourists almost go willingly, I say almost because they really have no idea they now belong to Pablo Diaz the third. He might treat them well. He might offer them a better life, something they can look forward to, something that gives them reason to get up in the morning. Sometimes they stop to catch their breath, sometimes not.
Please dear god get your hands off me, I don't think I can do this work for you anymore. You have sapped my strength and you tapped all my resources. The needs of the people are given the cold shoulder and a blind eye to your grand scope of the world. God save their souls their gonna need those crutches.
words!
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