Song | Gustavo |
Artist | Mark Kozelek |
Album | Live At Victoria Teatern And Stenhammarsalen |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
I wrote a check and I bought an old house | |
I got a TV and a worn-out couch | |
Hired a guy named Gustavo and his friends | |
To fix it up from the foundation | |
Oh god, those motherfuckers drove me nuts | |
With their electrical saws and mariachi music | |
But they really stepped it up man | |
And put their backs into it | |
But they lived pretty far away | |
They wanted to stay for a couple of months | |
'Til the work got done and I said sure | |
Made ‘em a key and got ‘em a microwave | |
Gustavo was an illegal immigrant | |
He took the money that I gave him | |
And he went and spent it on strippers and casinos | |
And every once in a while with them I’d go | |
It gets boring out in the mountains, you know | |
Chopping wood, falling asleep to the TV snow | |
Making ground beef tacos | |
On the top of a potbellied stove | |
Eating noodles from a Styrofoam cup | |
Waiting for a ride that never shows up | |
Walking into town, browsing the windows | |
Looking at rifles, looking at ammo | |
At night when everything’s closed | |
In my wet boots, in my winter clothes | |
One night they were headed for Tahoe | |
They asked me along but I said fuck no | |
'Cause I was tired and my money was tight | |
And they just laughed and said alright | |
And on the way back they got stopped | |
By a redneck sunnyside highway cop | |
Gustavo was drunk and had an ounce of pot | |
And spent the night on a jailhouse cot | |
They deported him back to Mexico | |
He called me collect from a Tijuana pay phone | |
Asking man, could you wire me money? | |
2500 for a border coyote | |
He needed work and he missed his family | |
But I hung up and I said I’m sorry | |
But I hung up and I felt uneasy | |
I hung up and my heart was heavy | |
I hung up and my back was aching | |
Picking up the work they’d left in front of me | |
The demoed walls and the pulled up floors | |
The busted up cabinets and the broken drawers | |
The kitchen sink was laying in the backyard | |
And I looked down and my hands were trembling | |
And I looked up and my roof was leaking | |
Now I still sleep on my beat-up old couch | |
In the living room of my unfinished house | |
I got a licensed contractor | |
But he quit cause his wife was dying of cancer | |
But what the hell, I’m just here trying to find answers | |
To find peace of mind, to get a piece of the rock | |
A place to put my mental clock | |
And my old guitars and gently rock | |
Back and forth in my front porch chair | |
Without a worry, without a care | |
I’m doing alright but I’m still not there | |
My house ain’t done, but it’s alright | |
Floors ain’t level, but I ain’t some suburban | |
Who cares about bathroom tiles | |
Straight lines and building codes and Chinese wind chimes | |
My house ain’t done, but it’s fine | |
Come out here from time to time | |
In December for the snow | |
And in July to watch the roses | |
My gardener asks had I seen Gustavo? | |
I just laughed and I said fuck no | |
Not since that night he left | |
His hair combed back, headed for Tahoe | |
My girlfriend asked had I heard from that guy from Mexico? | |
I said you mean Gustavo? | |
And I just laughed and I said no | |
Not since he called from the Tijuana pay phone | |
Really I don’t give much thought to Gustavo | |
I love to go out to the mountains, though | |
And in the fall, feel the breeze blow | |
And in the winter, watch the falling snow | |
And in the spring, love the rainbows | |
And in the summer smell the roses | |
White and red and yellow |
I wrote a check and I bought an old house | |
I got a TV and a wornout couch | |
Hired a guy named Gustavo and his friends | |
To fix it up from the foundation | |
Oh god, those motherfuckers drove me nuts | |
With their electrical saws and mariachi music | |
But they really stepped it up man | |
And put their backs into it | |
But they lived pretty far away | |
They wanted to stay for a couple of months | |
' Til the work got done and I said sure | |
Made ' em a key and got ' em a microwave | |
Gustavo was an illegal immigrant | |
He took the money that I gave him | |
And he went and spent it on strippers and casinos | |
And every once in a while with them I' d go | |
It gets boring out in the mountains, you know | |
Chopping wood, falling asleep to the TV snow | |
Making ground beef tacos | |
On the top of a potbellied stove | |
Eating noodles from a Styrofoam cup | |
Waiting for a ride that never shows up | |
Walking into town, browsing the windows | |
Looking at rifles, looking at ammo | |
At night when everything' s closed | |
In my wet boots, in my winter clothes | |
One night they were headed for Tahoe | |
They asked me along but I said fuck no | |
' Cause I was tired and my money was tight | |
And they just laughed and said alright | |
And on the way back they got stopped | |
By a redneck sunnyside highway cop | |
Gustavo was drunk and had an ounce of pot | |
And spent the night on a jailhouse cot | |
They deported him back to Mexico | |
He called me collect from a Tijuana pay phone | |
Asking man, could you wire me money? | |
2500 for a border coyote | |
He needed work and he missed his family | |
But I hung up and I said I' m sorry | |
But I hung up and I felt uneasy | |
I hung up and my heart was heavy | |
I hung up and my back was aching | |
Picking up the work they' d left in front of me | |
The demoed walls and the pulled up floors | |
The busted up cabinets and the broken drawers | |
The kitchen sink was laying in the backyard | |
And I looked down and my hands were trembling | |
And I looked up and my roof was leaking | |
Now I still sleep on my beatup old couch | |
In the living room of my unfinished house | |
I got a licensed contractor | |
But he quit cause his wife was dying of cancer | |
But what the hell, I' m just here trying to find answers | |
To find peace of mind, to get a piece of the rock | |
A place to put my mental clock | |
And my old guitars and gently rock | |
Back and forth in my front porch chair | |
Without a worry, without a care | |
I' m doing alright but I' m still not there | |
My house ain' t done, but it' s alright | |
Floors ain' t level, but I ain' t some suburban | |
Who cares about bathroom tiles | |
Straight lines and building codes and Chinese wind chimes | |
My house ain' t done, but it' s fine | |
Come out here from time to time | |
In December for the snow | |
And in July to watch the roses | |
My gardener asks had I seen Gustavo? | |
I just laughed and I said fuck no | |
Not since that night he left | |
His hair combed back, headed for Tahoe | |
My girlfriend asked had I heard from that guy from Mexico? | |
I said you mean Gustavo? | |
And I just laughed and I said no | |
Not since he called from the Tijuana pay phone | |
Really I don' t give much thought to Gustavo | |
I love to go out to the mountains, though | |
And in the fall, feel the breeze blow | |
And in the winter, watch the falling snow | |
And in the spring, love the rainbows | |
And in the summer smell the roses | |
White and red and yellow |
I wrote a check and I bought an old house | |
I got a TV and a wornout couch | |
Hired a guy named Gustavo and his friends | |
To fix it up from the foundation | |
Oh god, those motherfuckers drove me nuts | |
With their electrical saws and mariachi music | |
But they really stepped it up man | |
And put their backs into it | |
But they lived pretty far away | |
They wanted to stay for a couple of months | |
' Til the work got done and I said sure | |
Made ' em a key and got ' em a microwave | |
Gustavo was an illegal immigrant | |
He took the money that I gave him | |
And he went and spent it on strippers and casinos | |
And every once in a while with them I' d go | |
It gets boring out in the mountains, you know | |
Chopping wood, falling asleep to the TV snow | |
Making ground beef tacos | |
On the top of a potbellied stove | |
Eating noodles from a Styrofoam cup | |
Waiting for a ride that never shows up | |
Walking into town, browsing the windows | |
Looking at rifles, looking at ammo | |
At night when everything' s closed | |
In my wet boots, in my winter clothes | |
One night they were headed for Tahoe | |
They asked me along but I said fuck no | |
' Cause I was tired and my money was tight | |
And they just laughed and said alright | |
And on the way back they got stopped | |
By a redneck sunnyside highway cop | |
Gustavo was drunk and had an ounce of pot | |
And spent the night on a jailhouse cot | |
They deported him back to Mexico | |
He called me collect from a Tijuana pay phone | |
Asking man, could you wire me money? | |
2500 for a border coyote | |
He needed work and he missed his family | |
But I hung up and I said I' m sorry | |
But I hung up and I felt uneasy | |
I hung up and my heart was heavy | |
I hung up and my back was aching | |
Picking up the work they' d left in front of me | |
The demoed walls and the pulled up floors | |
The busted up cabinets and the broken drawers | |
The kitchen sink was laying in the backyard | |
And I looked down and my hands were trembling | |
And I looked up and my roof was leaking | |
Now I still sleep on my beatup old couch | |
In the living room of my unfinished house | |
I got a licensed contractor | |
But he quit cause his wife was dying of cancer | |
But what the hell, I' m just here trying to find answers | |
To find peace of mind, to get a piece of the rock | |
A place to put my mental clock | |
And my old guitars and gently rock | |
Back and forth in my front porch chair | |
Without a worry, without a care | |
I' m doing alright but I' m still not there | |
My house ain' t done, but it' s alright | |
Floors ain' t level, but I ain' t some suburban | |
Who cares about bathroom tiles | |
Straight lines and building codes and Chinese wind chimes | |
My house ain' t done, but it' s fine | |
Come out here from time to time | |
In December for the snow | |
And in July to watch the roses | |
My gardener asks had I seen Gustavo? | |
I just laughed and I said fuck no | |
Not since that night he left | |
His hair combed back, headed for Tahoe | |
My girlfriend asked had I heard from that guy from Mexico? | |
I said you mean Gustavo? | |
And I just laughed and I said no | |
Not since he called from the Tijuana pay phone | |
Really I don' t give much thought to Gustavo | |
I love to go out to the mountains, though | |
And in the fall, feel the breeze blow | |
And in the winter, watch the falling snow | |
And in the spring, love the rainbows | |
And in the summer smell the roses | |
White and red and yellow |