All the picadors at the rodeo jiving to the sounds on the stereo. “Captain, won’t you hire better men? The ones you got don’t know how to tango. We want a guy who plays just like Django. The ladies won’t come back round here till then.” All the rodeo stars were sleeping in their cars. All the rodeo stars were catching rain in jars. They sang - Albuquerque!
The crowd was mostly Dutch and Spanish; the guy could make your worries vanish, and everyone believed him when he said - “You could use a lifestyle coach: you have less scope than a cockroach. You’ll wish you’d been to Rio when you’re dead.” All the corporate wives were questioning their lives. All the corporate wives were sharpening their knives. They sang – Albuquerque!
The crowd was mostly Dutch and Spanish; the guy could make your worries vanish, and everyone believed him when he said - “You could use a lifestyle coach: you have less scope than a cockroach. You’ll wish you’d been to Rio when you’re dead.” All the corporate wives were questioning their lives. All the corporate wives were sharpening their knives. They sang – Albuquerque!