Smuggler's Blues at Moonlit Border

Moonlit border, no sound but the tide. Mule on the

boat says the load's double wide. Customs asleep, moon's too bright to fight.

We're sliding in the snow under stars tonight. Radar is off, but the dog's

on the dock. Federales think we're just another rock. Half a mile out,

lights in the bay. We're ghosts in the mist and they drift the

wrong way. Captain's humming a tune from '82. Says, "Boy,

if we make it, first round's on you." Salt in our

lungs, sweat on our brow, but the payout's so sweet we