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I crossed the line through the Mexican border â no law and no order did I find â I dreamt all night as we rolled asunder- black clouds of thunder through the sky â the fruit that I pick will turn to gold in my pocket â my heavenly crown put upon my head â my children will play beside a ripened orchard â the good lord above will do what he said- but you know whatâs in store for an old migrant man â the fruit of my labor never ends up in my hands â and that coyote dropped me here and now Iâm waiting on the corner â with just an old wooden cross in my right hand â howâs your family back in Mexico, I have a son and a daughter â gonna send them home some money just as soon as I can â but you know whatâs in store for an old migrant man â the fruit of my labor never ends up in my hand â I dreamt that I died while the fruit had all ripened â that Florida sunshine on their skin â and I stood at the gate and I begged St. Peter to let me â go back and join in the harvesting â cause you know whatâs in store for an old migrant man â the fruit of my labor never ends up in my hand