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The early morning rays draw a cavalcade
of feverish shapes through the veil
The slow burning air beckons a brand new crawl
through the same old trail

Endless the lines, voracious they stretch
Lonesome the walk, fugacious the end

A march of the ages, for weeks, months, years,
through nights and days
Carrying a nomad's home with the weight
of the world through suns that never fade

Arid are the grounds, dazzling the light
Elusive the air as heavens reignite

Sandstorms and serpents,
the sole gift from the skies
Withering endemic flora of paradise
Thirst and visions devouring at the will,
defying the drive to break free

The trail expands and contracts
Horizons move forth then retract
What vile curse must have been cast
bring on the blast

The ultimate trail towards quiet begins
and ends in prisons we never leave
No harsher soils than those conjured by man
Mojave, Tanami and Niger inside

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.