This is the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
Some of the Ballad takes place in the deserts of Mexico
Some of it has been erased so we'll never know
Maybe he paints plein air as the dying embers glow
Shaving his head and pushing against the status quo
This is the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
I think some of it may have happened in the evening
I would have stayed on longer but I was leaving
Something dramatic took place as they stood around the fire
I couldn't really hear it because I was tired
This is the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
Horses and hand-rolled cigarettes in the chill of the night
Maybe a sip of tequila under the starlight
I'm not one hundred percent sure that I remember it right
Nothing but the facts, for certain; but maybe not quite
This is the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
They came from miles around bearing witness to the Ballad
A tri-tip on the smoker, somebody brought a salad
The conversation was flowing so good, we almost ran out of firewood
And we never got around to singing the Ballad
This is the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
That was the story of the Ballad of San Cristobal
The Patron Saint of Paint Brush hanging on my wall
The people in the town sang it poorly
I guess we're lucky that they sang at all
They were singing the glorious Ballad of San Cristobal
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