"Pan American Blues" lyrics

A fifth on decoration day for the doctor that fixed my arm
The federales back from Tucson, each one got an arm gone
Limehouse Pratt got dim inside, can't see the painted ladies runaround at night
A wood-paneled room, my cigarette fumes waltz and dissolve just for you

There's gonna be a truce
There's gonna be a truce
There's gonna be a truce but
First you got to set your horses loose

A jaguar simmering in a cage, give him a chance
Can you tell the answer from the ants
History's got it's walking papers can't get enough
Of the make-up that makes it look so tough

Well it, ssseems just like a freeze out
Seems just like a freeze out
Seems just like a freeze out
An undisclosed, deeply wooded lose your way route