The sweat cuts rivers in the dust

On your face

While the wheels beneath complain

The wind still whistles through the haze

The sun shines like a razorblade

And the bones of crops and banknotes pave the way.

The highways are lined with graves

Like the fingernails of giants

Like blood pulled through a vein

We rush the west in silence

And I am not the one you wanted here

But I will fill my post

Heaven's touch is often out of reach

To those who want it most.

You wear a rose from yesterday

Like the world is green and overgrown

And I wear a handkerchief around my mouth

To keep the dust and ashes out

I'd dream a glass of water

With you dreaming of the sea

And I'd watch my feet and you would watch the sky

And we would wonder why our eyes no longer meet.

It was hard to call the thing we saw a storm

Like it had climbed from the pages of some novel

And the sheets of dust hit everything like waves against the rocks

It was morning but I'd be damned if I could tell

And you would hold my hand and close your eyes

And I didn't mind

When hell bears its teeth

You learn your face and this god forsaken sun could be the moon

For all it provides

Eyes are on the roads

Before it disappears again.