The heat comes, in little waves,
lapping at my neck and shoulders;
my search for shade is futile,
I walk amongst the boulders.
Their granite faces solemn,
standing mute above me;
I escape the burning breezes,
and set my spirit free.
The heat seeps through the air,
there's only scattered shade;
I wish for pools of water,
the image quickly fades.
Not much water in the desert,
only dried up pools of muck;
there's no freedom from the heat,
I'm simply out of luck!