I was only three days in
on my journey across a desert
when my body just gave in
and laid down itself for comfort.

When I would close my eyes,
I couldn't hardly see.
Then a man made out of rock
shook the sand beneath my feet.

He was a man of few words;
not-so-subtle in his approach.
He reached for my hand
and offered me his home.

I woke up in a cave
in a tattered woolen cloak
by a fire burning softly
like a song sung out of hope.

Time dragged on forever
before I decided to leave.
I put a knife right through my friend
and I left him there to bleed.

Do I prey on the weak
or do they prey on me?
Is it some collaboration
that I have yet to see?

Now when I close my eyes,
I can't hardly see.
The sand fills up my throat
until I can barely breathe.