The Desert from South Dakota by Jonah Knight

The Desert

It was The Cowboy, The Cherry Street Grille, or whatever they call this place now.
Sunlight trickled through the moss green shade highlighting your eyebrow.
I've been busy just sloshing around. Swimming through the motions like a champ.
Awkward cup and saucer overflow with chatter. Bunched up, her napkin was damp.

Chorus:
Hearts like coffee, bitter and sharp, secrets I'm ready to spill.
"I don't think I can handle this,"
She drips, she runs, she swells.
Surrounding us is The Desert. A mournful kingdom of sand.
Deep in my heart stretches The Desert. A dry and primitive land.


I hate The Cowboy, The Cherry Street Grille, or whatever they call this place now.
Everything changes, everything grows, but not me. I never learned how.
Always rewinding, never put things behind me. You're like my lightning bolt scar.
Now that we're cheated out of everything we've needed, gone, but you'll never be far.

Chorus


I can still feel her misting like rain. Though years like weeds have grown.
Ahead the road swept, in the river she leapt, skipping The Desert like a stone.

• Acoustic
• ScienceFiction
• fantasy
• ghosts
• monsters
• steampunk
• Fair Oaks