Twelve-year-olds love to play
Making games of most everything
Who loves who now the gossip flies
The little towns and the miles roll by
The old bus breaks down in
Somehow Ramon makes it run again
"Si dios quiere" he likes to say
No spare parts from the U.S.A.
The road is steep not much
more to go
But the Contras were seen here three days ago
"SO far so good, say your rosaries.
'Cause right now they'd have us on our knees"
Six men in roadside just ahead
Something in the driver's mind senses dread
He yells, "Contras, get down!" and steps on the gas
Too late as bullets smash the glass
Screams and cries and blood
The Contras run off to higher ground
Twelve are wounded lying on the floor
And Guadalupe is no more
The bus burns with the close
The Contra officers collect their pay
The guns, the grenades, and the bullets say
"Made in the U.S.A."
"Mourio por sus patria" the
priest will say
Guadalupe will , your papa's tears dry someday?
Leaving scars that time will never wear away
Made in the U.S.A.
© 1985 by Eric Kilburn