The sun was going down behind a tattoo tree
And the simple act of an oar's stroke put diamonds in the
sea
And all because of the [bad word] there in quantity
As I dug you digging me in Mexico

There in the Valley of Scorpio beneath the cross of jade
Smoking on a seashell pipe the gypsies had made
We sat and we dreamed awhile of smugglers bringing wine
That crystal-thought time in Mexico

Sitting in a chair of bamboo sipping grenadine
Straining my eyes for a surfacing submarine
Kingdoms of ants walk across my feet
I'm a-shaking in my seat in Mexico

Grasshoppers creaking in the velvet jungle night
Microscopic circles in the fluid of my sight
Watching a black-eyed native girl cut and trim the lamp
Valentino vamp in Mexico

The sun was going down behind a tattoo tree
And the simple act of an oar's stroke put diamonds in the
sea
And all because of the [bad word] there in quantity
As I dug you digging me in Mexico