Desert Lord I may be
But far from desolate...
Sand runs through my fingers
And behold, a treasure of kings
Garnets and quartz
And the bones of living creatures
From before time was measured
Their voices carried upon the wind,
These are my subjects.
A Lord alone I may be
But far from brooding
For it is my blood that feeds this place
Cast out dry and crystalline red
And when my hand raises the storm
The tempest of my passion
Will devour you
Wave upon burning wave
All your glories, all you are,
Ground to dust
Disintegrated into jeweled fragments
To glitter against my russet skin
All your vanities -
Clutched here, in the palm of my hand.
Sand runs through my fingers
And behold, a treasure of kings
Garnets and quartz
And the bones of living creatures
From before time was measured
Their voices carried upon the wind,
These are my subjects.
A Lord alone I may be
But far from brooding
For it is my blood that feeds this place
Cast out dry and crystalline red
And when my hand raises the storm
The tempest of my passion
Will devour you
Wave upon burning wave
All your glories, all you are,
Ground to dust
Disintegrated into jeweled fragments
To glitter against my russet skin
All your vanities -
Clutched here, in the palm of my hand.
