Red Rose At Pancho's Cantina True Story

It is a hot afternoon at Pancho's Cantina And Rosa is sitting at the bar, mariachis singing Cause the juke box is dead She is the red rose in Pancho's Cantina There is no telephone, so you can't hear it ringing She is letting the tequila, get into her head She once had a hour glass figure, that is about out of sand A lot of make up to cover up most of the hurt and pain But she smiles at all the men that come her way With another tequila in her hand To help drown her pain She wishes she could just run away And it is not all roses in her bed But that is where she makes her living And she hates her life But it keeps her poor family fed She think that men do all the taking and damn little giving Serving many, knowing she will never be a man's wife