These walls are empty inside.
How he longs for female delight.
Tired of the infinite fight.
His face is scarred like a shadow at night
He is dry , just like his country.
He is dry.
This land has cast him aside.
How he hurts holding on to it tight.
In a mirage they see him walking.
Only the wind is left to stalk him.
She is a cloud - traveling high with the sky on her back.
He is the land - never in motion with his heart in her trap.
They made love for a season , and vanished in the sand.
How he longs with thunder crashing through the night.