La sierra

Late night through Durango, yeah the tires kicking dust,

3 AM pickup, only real ones on the run,

met the jefe in the mountains where the cold wind hit our lungs,

then we headed to San Bernardo where the work had just begun.

Boots muddy on the trail, six hours up the hill,

moonlight on the rifles, silence gave me chills,

finally saw the campos, all green past the cliffs,

felt like heaven in the sierra, swear that moment felt unreal.

I took my time choosing which plant I was gon’ spark,

sticky fingers full of hash while we walking through the dark,

mulas overloaded climbing trails that left a mark,

heavy breathing up the mountain while coyotes barked afar.

Whole day in the garden with the smell up in the air,

hands covered in resin, smoke floating everywhere,

passing little white bags while corridos playing there,

young and wild in the sierra, didn’t have a single care.

(Chorus)

Rolling through the mountains where the cold wind blow,

Durango nights really turned me to a ghost,

San Bernardo trails, yeah they hardened my soul,

with the stars above the sierra and the fire burning slow.

Sunrise hit the valley, all the hills painted gold,

every step through the sierra got a story never told,

life up in them mountains either breaks you or makes you bold,

and them nights around the harvest still stay inside my soul.