The grieving sky with outraged senses
Brushed away like dirt under a rug.
I keep the line open for what I don’t understand 
But the highway was dark, and the dog still barked
The work of an evil child who did not understand
How the surface tore viscously through my shyness
The badlands still deserves this name
Little water can turn into a dangerous metal
And the fear of ridicule conceals experiences 
But it would be you with the attention of the gods

We stayed with no mystic trees or snow
So naturally we forgot the whole thing

The early morning sky
Swept clean of clouds
But left clear faithful thoughts
I feel wanted in the land
The clean-lined cliffs glowed like the sun
The landscape shouted with color
The fire built  a perfume of burning wood
This is one place where I feel wanted 
The night was the work of beautiful child