The sand slips through your fingers
The vultures in you try
The blood drying on you lingers
And I'll make you cry
Holding onto ideals
That are not so abusive
Partake and you will heal
In a manner inobtrusive
Withered and wasted away
And you will fade to a tear
We don't want you anyway
Your child doesn't care
Desert crest
Of wanton breath
Of drifted minds and dusty roads
Of dreaming sweet, my call morose
They're screaming now to hold my touch
The hope inside it won't mean much