Rivers In The Dust
The sweat cuts rivers in the dustOn your faceWhile the wheels beneath complainThe wind still whistles through the hazeThe sun shines like a razorbladeAnd the bones of crops and banknotes pave the way
The highways are lined with gravesLike the fingernails of giantsLike blood pulled through a veinWe rush the west in silenceAnd I am not the one you wanted hereBut I will fill my postHeaven's touch is often out of reachTo those who want it most
You wear a rose from yesterdayLike the world is green and overgrownAnd I wear a handkerchief around my mouthTo keep the dust and ashes outI'd dream a glass of waterWith you dreaming of the seaAnd I'd watch my feet and you would watch the skyAnd we would wonder why our eyes no longer meet
It was hard to call the thing we saw a stormLike it had climbed from the pages of some novelAnd the sheets of dust hit everythingLike waves against the rocksIt was morning but I'd be damned if I could tellAnd you would hold my hand and close your eyesAnd I didn't mindWhen Hell bears its teethYou learn your face andThis god forsaken sun could be the moonFor all it providesEyes are on the roadBefore it disappears again