Collect your belt, and come collect your shoes I wasn't born here, I'm just passing through Don't speak of death and don't speak 'til you're spoken to Rehearse your birthdate, and rehearse your name Sundown Tijuana, sunrise in LA Turn off the bedroom light for me Hunt me, Pacific Coast, surround me at SFO We're birds on the runway, we're lines on the road Darling, I'll be up late, I'll send word from JFK They've lost my trail, But I will never lose my way Old folks are suspects and the kids are crimes Our legs are scars and our hometowns are knives With Grandmother's suitcase and your father's hazel eyes My bags are checked and my crimes are confessed A kiss on your forehead and sweat on your dress I won't be coming home tonight