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