The desert calls for seasons

Crawling alone without rain

Somewhere in the wind is a tear

Keep you going, keep a home for you here

She has her way with the words

I never knew it 'til then

Balling eyes, ’cause you're bored of talking

In her lies, like a blanket to fall in

I've got this bottled up story

You with your hand on the knife

And I ripped your childhood portrait

So high on the fumes of my pride

I say it always with reasons

But I can’t find one for you or me

The last laugh and the chance you might have it

Guilt filled my path

and you've a real knack for crafting it, oh

I've got this bottled up story

You with your hand on the knife

And I ripped your childhood portrait

So high on the fumes of my pride

In the desert

In the desert

In the desert

In the desert

I've got this bottled up story

You with your hand on the knife

And I ripped your childhood portrait

So high on the fumes of my pride