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