Miguel came from a small town in northern Mexico   He came north with his brother Louis to California three years ago   They crossed at the river levee when Louis was just sixteen   And found work together in the fields of the San Joaquin      They left their homes and family   Their father said "My sons one thing you will learn.   For everything the north gives it exacts a price in return."   They worked side by side in the orchards   From morning till the day was through   Doing the work the hueros wouldn't do      Word was out some men in from Sinaloa were looking for some hands   Well deep in Fresno county there was a deserted chicken ranch   There in a small tin shack on the edge of a ravine   Miguel and Louis stood cooking methamphetamine      You could spend a year in the orchards   Or make half as much in one ten-hour shift   Working for the men from Sinaloa   But if you slipped the hydriodic acid   Could burn right through your skin   They'd leave you spittin' up blood in the desert   If you breathed those fumes in      It was early one winter evening as Miguel stood watch outside   When the shack exploded lighting up the valley night   Miguel carried Louis' body over his shoulder down a swale   To the creekside and there in the tall grass Louis Rosales died      Miguel lifted Louis' body into his truck and then he drove   To where the morning sunlight fell on a eucalyptus grove   There in the dirt he dug up ten thousand dollars all that they'd saved   Kissed his brothers lips and placed him in his grave