There is nothing left,
the cattle are Dead
The crops are gone
Whatever there was
has been looted.
Explore the Evil Sun
While we cross the desert
Despite the weeping heart
Crackings on the land
Droughts of the Rivers
Dreath among the People.
Thus the boundaries -
They sing the old hymns
and they'll let the tears roll down
They would hunt a mood among us
Like hyena waiting in the dark
Sniffing approaching to us, stealthily
Crossing
& blaming the empty desert.
