Its a Land with 3 inches of Soil
Sprouts High Voltage Lines, Oil Derriks
And Microwave Towers everywhere
Like a Modern Steel Forest Landscape

The wind is ever present and Unending
Its a Cruel Wind, strips the Paint off of All
At Night the Howling and Humming of
All that steel wire sets your teeth on edge

The wind Strips the electrons from All
Leaving a Negative charge in the Air
Like some Electrical Spirit plagues the Land
Scrambling your thoughts and Actions

Its the Desolation Where Revial Meeting Tents
Flapped in 1930s wind there for Salvation of Souls
The Place where anger flares up from Minds wore down
A Brother gets shot over Drumstick in any given town

At the motel I pace in the Night hounded by the sound
As if I had to witness this Howling wind strip the Ground
Morning coffee I reach for a Styrofoam Cup with the Rolls
It Leaps 5 inches into my hand trying to get away from this Land

A Land of endless wind and sand run across West Texas Like
A Frieght train Whistling and Howling as it Rumbles By
Shaking the Ground with its Passing Through the Town
The Lands Only Salvation is its Blue unending Skies