Johnny Hobo – New Mexico Song

Johnny Hobo - New Mexico Song



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Great song, great lyrics. This is the new mexico song from Johnny Hobo & The Freight Trains(more or less) Enjoy.

ps- before you jump to conclusions about the song listen to the lyrics

23 thoughts on “Johnny Hobo – New Mexico Song”

  1. As he lights an American spirit
    He asks how I can smoke such shit
    I say there's nothing like chain smoking
    GPC cigarettes
    Because any smokes will kill ya
    But these will make you feel like it

    I sit back down
    On the parking lot curb
    And remember back to February
    The trip to Hartford

    When five minutes ago
    He was passed out on the staircase
    Trying to walk to his apartment
    But not making it all the way

    And now he's driving us
    100 miles an hour down the interstate
    Another beer in his hand
    Swearing we won't be late

    That was before everyone moved to New Mexico
    They all left a couple of months ago
    Until the day my friend
    When I sleep on the floor of your van again
    I'll be waiting in this parking lot
    And in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free
    My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to many miles

    We aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution
    And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you
    And that maybe we'd all be better off if that were true

    Because then at least we'd know where we stand
    And we could tell our comrades apart from the man
    But if the world isn't that simple
    Maybe this town is at least

    And if I'm not marching with them to war I'm sure not marching with you for peace

    Class traitor? What fucking ever!
    I'm just another middle class kid, too
    But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self loathing
    So I'll class hate myself with you

    May our only occupation be not having a job
    May the only cocktails that we make be Molotov

    May that day be now
    And for as many days after that as we know how
    It starts in this parking lot
    And in my dreams, I am dirty broke beautiful and free
    My hands clenched in a fist and my face in a smile
    After hitching too many miles

  2. As he lights an American spirit
    He asks how I can smoke such shit
    I say there's nothing like chain smoking
    GPC cigarettes
    Because any smokes will kill ya
    But these will make you feel like it

    I sit back down
    On the parking lot curb
    And remember back to February
    The trip to Hartford

    When five minutes ago
    He was passed out on the staircase
    Trying to walk to his apartment
    But not making it all the way

    And now he's driving us
    100 miles an hour down the interstate
    Another beer in his hand
    Swearing we won't be late

    That was before everyone moved to New Mexico
    They all left a couple of months ago
    Until the day my friend
    When I sleep on the floor of your van again
    I'll be waiting in this parking lot

    And in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free
    My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to many miles

    We aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution
    And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you
    And that maybe we'd all be better off if that were true

    Because then at least we'd know where we stand
    And we could tell our comrades apart from the man
    But if the world isn't that simple
    Maybe this town is at least

    And if I'm not marching with them to war I'm sure not marching with you for peace

    Class traitor? What fucking ever!
    I'm just another middle class kid, too
    But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self loathing
    So I'll class hate myself with you

    May our only occupation be not having a job
    May the only cocktails that we make be Molotov

    May that day be now
    And for as many days after that as we know how
    It starts in this parking lot

    And in my dreams, I am dirty broke beautiful and free
    My hands clenched in a fist and my face in a smile
    After hitching too many miles

  3. Nothing like being all by yourself – no family you can call even though you burned them, every 'friend' ready to unbus you for a needles blem or a smoke slim, gods got your back but even he is tired of your sin.

    In my mind I have 2 choices. To die or to be with them again.

  4. Is moving to New Mexico a euphemism for killing yourself? Maybe it's just a coincidence but the line from "your heart is a muscle the size of your fist" where the friend says he's driving to New Mexico and then kills himself kind of implies it.

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