by Peter Loaf

The taxi taking, a climbing road
The gringa pretty, in trunk she rode
Mexico City
Town without pity
Mexican villa, her next abode

Gag muffled protests, the driver grins
DEA agent, journey begins
Screaming and kicking
The taped gag sticking
Mountain road lonely, the driver wins

Sound of a siren, the taxi slows
Hogtied and frightened, her panic grows
Footsteps approaching
The cop reproaching
The trunk flies open, her naked pose

The Narko Brothers, playing a trick
Her helpless struggles, it’s really sick
Her body a bruise
And no more to lose
Bending to suckle, bending to lick

When she was taken, drops in her drink
Waking up helpless, covered in stink
Her body well beaten
The ropes defeatin’
The brother bastards, deep in their kink

Two grinning bozos, faces unmasked
The Narko brothers, questions unasked
Her training useless
Her captors ruthless
The drug war waging, her given task

Rape and then murder, very first plan
“How ‘bout we train her?” the older man
“A sex slave or two”
“The things we could do”
To villa sending, spam in the can

The villa reaching, taken to shed
Tied to some planking, putting to bed
New welts on her rump
So rounded and plump
Jump struggle quiver, her bottom red

Second nights service, more of the same
DEA agent, improves the game
Her shell is cracking
The deck they’re stacking
DEA agent, pleasure to tame

Then in the morning, heading to bed
The girl well broken, out of her head
The voices booming
The Army dooming
Narco squad soldiers, cartel behead