Jan, Jan, ocotillo is red
And the earth is still tan
And the beaners who go under the radar still flow…
Come out to the wash-bed, Jan

Jan, Jan, you’re more dead than alive
And your speech is less than planned
And mind you your case – a Pharaonic face --
Makeover with Tyrah, haggie Jan

Till all the tacos taste cooked by Himmler himself
Till the boxcars and showers are ready for Sheriff Joe to deploy
When the sun roasts my noggin, I’ll still be waitin’

Jan, Jan, ocotillo is brown
But the earth is still tan
And like lava you spit --
“How God made Phoenix a pit”
Come out to the wash-bed, Jan

Jan, Jan, wetbacks are brown
And your brain is full of sand
Shake it for me, 16 seconds of memory
Go back to your cave, haggie Jan


Tra-la-la, bla-bla-bla, etc.