In the pre-dawn dusk of the parking lot
The workers form a line.
They board the long white transport bus
And hope the kids are fine.
Left home alone with the older ones,
The cousins will take care.
Mom wraps a t-shirt around her face
To filter out the filthy air.
No food to make the little ones,
Pop Tarts will do just fine.
We got make with what we got,
Gotta stretch every single last dime.
Why? Cause that's where we're at.
She practices her English with the T.V. on.
She hums a line in Spanish of Abuelo's favorite song.
Pass the trucks and pass the tags, She makes her way to school.
She hopes that he will look her way pues he's been acting gangster cool.
Why? Cause that's where we're at.
Another song about the salad bowl,
About the place that we live.
This valley can be a prison.
Just ask the kids.
This heritage of Steinbeck, what difference does it make?
The libraries are shut and the schools don't teach and no one can relate.
The problems that we face, they say it's always been this way.
A fatalist approach of bigger cages and longer chains.
Dead Cross, Retox, and Qui members dish out subversive hardcore with an indignant smirk; come for the riffs, stay for the synth experiments. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 31, 2024