Drinking cold cerveza in a boiling hot saloon. Chasing shots of tequila. Just about high noon. Outside nuevo laredo. Deep in no man’s land. Become a killer or be killed;. Face down in the rio grande. Poverty will turn the life of any good man bad. All love and mercy ever learned he’ll soon forget what he had. Guns drugs and money under the mexican sky. Guns drugs and money; pick your poison or you die. Guns drugs and money; a pistol pressed to his head. Choose silver and you’re rich; you gonna die if you choose lead. He had a suitcase full of money. Plenty of ammo for his gun. The sweat rolls down his dirty face. His plans have all come undone. It’s just a matter of time. No matter how he tries. He hears “plata o plomo gringo?”. The last words before he dies