Scary Sanchez

On a dusty old road in old mexico
I found myself face to face with a beetle
He was not so ugly, nor very good looking
Just something sort of there in the middle
And he hitched a ride in a small metal box
That I carry right here in my pocket
Not because I want to, but because he complained
About being too cramped in my locket

He told me his name was Scary Sanchez
And “sir” he said “don’t you forget it”
“Im headed up north from this desert below”
“nothing happens if I do not let it”
“ I see that your laughing” he said with a scowl
“that tequila will go to your head”
“you may tell this story but it wont be believed”
“because beetles cant talk when theyre dead”