He packed a couple shirts, a hat
His calling as an adventurer, six tips
Seven photos, a thousand memories
He packed his urge to stay
His condition of becoming
The man that he dreamed of
He said goodbye with a grimace disguised as a smile
And begged his God crucified on the shelf
For the safeguard of his loved ones
And he pierced the border
If the gentle moon slides over any ledge
Because the wetback needs
To prove with visas that he's not from Neptune
The wetback wants to dry off
The wetback is wet from the tears shed by
The wetback, the undocumented one
Carries the load that legally he wouldn't carry
The torture of a paper has turned him into a fugitive
And he's not from here because his name doesn't appear in the files
Nor is he from there because he left
If the gentle moon slides over any ledge
Because the wetback needs
To prove with visas that he's not from Neptune
Your truth tastes like a lie
Anxiety tastes like sadness
From seeing a freeway and dreaming of the path
That leads to your house
Knowing that somewhere
A kiss is waiting on pause
Since the day that you left
If the gentle moon slides over any ledge
Because the wetback needs
To prove with visas that he's not from Neptune
If the universal visa is issued
Why do they chase you, wetback
If the consul of the heavens
Already gave you permission