From the Plains to Mexico
The Residents Lyrics


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We were lyin' on the prairie, on slaughter's ranch one night
With our heads upon our saddles and a campfire burnin' bright
Soon we fell to talkin' of distant friends so dear
Oh, when a boy raised up in his saddle and he wiped away our tear

Oh, I fell in love with a neighbor girl, her cheeks were soft and white
Another feller loved her too and it ended in a fight
Oh, it makes me shake and shudder to think of that awful night
When Tom and I began to fight and I stabbed him with my knife

I fell down on my knees and tried to stop the blood
That came out from his side all spurtin'
Like some bright red crimson flood

And now when I am sleepin' I hear him softly say
Oh Bob, I know you're sorry but I've gone to a better place




Yes I guess, I believe it but I just can't let it go
His dyin' eyes are with me, oh from the plains to Mexico

Overall Meaning

The Residents's song "From the Plains to Mexico" narrates a conversation between cowboys on a Prairie in Slaughter's Ranch one night. As they gather around a campfire, they reminisce about their distant and beloved friends. As they continue talking, a young boy raises himself up in his saddle, indicating he has a story to tell. He shares that he fell in love with a neighbor girl, but unfortunately, another man loved her too. The love triangle ended in a vicious fight, during which the young boy, named Tom, was fatally stabbed by the singer, named Bob. Bob fell to his knees, trying frantically to stop the blood, but Tom eventually passed away.


Bob is now tormented by his guilt and regrets, as he hears Tom's plea for forgiveness in his dreams. He acknowledges that Tom has probably gone to a better place, but his dying eyes still haunt him as he reflects on the tragedy that took place on that fateful night. The song is filled with powerful imagery, metaphors, and emotions that elicit a deep and introspective response in the listener. It explores themes of love, betrayal, guilt, and redemption, and provides a sobering reflection on the consequences of violence and jealousy.


Line by Line Meaning

We were lyin' on the prairie, on slaughter's ranch one night
We were lying on the prairie at night on slaughter's ranch.


With our heads upon our saddles and a campfire burnin' bright
We rested our heads on our saddles and watched the bright campfire.


Soon we fell to talkin' of distant friends so dear
We soon started talking about our beloved distant friends.


Oh, when a boy raised up in his saddle and he wiped away our tear
A boy raised in his saddle and wiped away the tears from our face.


Oh, I fell in love with a neighbor girl, her cheeks were soft and white
I fell in love with my neighbor girl, who had soft and white cheeks.


Another feller loved her too and it ended in a fight
Another guy also loved her, which resulted in a fight between us.


Oh, it makes me shake and shudder to think of that awful night
I feel haunted and terrified about that awful night.


When Tom and I began to fight and I stabbed him with my knife
During our fight, I stabbed Tom with a knife.


I fell down on my knees and tried to stop the blood
I dropped down on my knees to help stop the bleeding.


That came out from his side all spurtin'
His wound was bleeding, spurting out of his side.


Like some bright red crimson flood
The flow of blood was bright red and looks like a flood of crimson.


And now when I am sleepin' I hear him softly say
When I am sleeping at night, I hear Tom's voice talking to me softly.


Oh Bob, I know you're sorry but I've gone to a better place
Tom says that he knows I regret what I did, but he has gone to a better place.


Yes I guess, I believe it but I just can't let it go
I believe that Tom is in a better place. However, I can't forgive myself for what I've done.


His dyin' eyes are with me, oh from the plains to Mexico
Tom's dying eyes always stick with me. It's like he's always with me wherever I go, from the plains to Mexico.




Contributed by Joseph F. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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Jimbo


on BUCKAROO BLUES: The Stampede

A true mirror of American culture. The Residents are a national treasure

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