The Hispanic breeds are being scared off lately, They don’t speak much English, I don’t speak much Spanish, But I remember when I was a little boy, White boy in a brown body, Nestled in a blanket in a slum apartment, Surrounded by grizzly, Mexican men, All with breath of stale beer, They’re faded blue like their work shirts, And I was young and golden, They were all my friends, The air, oily with the smell of fried tortillas, My own eyes wide, My hair long, over my ears, A worn, mongrel, Mexican boy.