Silently spinning 'round on this tiny blue speck,
A gun on my belt, the Book in my pocket.
Wrapped up tight in my cloak and so many memories,
Feeling the burning pain on my chest of a sun-baked locket.

Silently spinning 'round my head,
The memories of a life unlived.
Missing all the things I'd been too afraid to do,
Missing memories of what I never did.

Silently spinning 'round,
Silently spinning,
Moving without a sound.

They call it a wasteland.

Silently spinning 'round the desert
Are sands thrown by the winds.
But I can't stop walking,
Because out there somewhere I know I have friends.

Silently spinning round a camp fire they are,
Laughing and telling stories of times past.
Someday I know I'll find them,
And I will be home at last.

Silently spinning 'round,
Silently spinning,
Moving without a sound.

They call it a wasteland, baby.

Silently spinning 'round is the world about me,
Because I'm all alone in my mind,
Lost in a wasteland I made for myself,
Looking for something I can never seem to find.

Silently spinning, silently spinning.
They call it a wasteland,
They call it a wasteland, my love.

But I call it my home.