Painted Desert

Heard the whisper of the breeze through the willows near the setting of the sun
And the moanful howl of the loansome wolf
When the glow had finnaly faded and the crickets song begun.

About a mile past broken arrow in the painted desert out west
Where we stopped to pitch the tent at Painther's Cry.
In the full moon of the Scorpion on the mesa known as skull
It was only God and sky and her and I.

We had opened blue tequilla, ate peote' by the button.
For the vision pure and clear we'd set our minds
In the mid-night's moon-light's madness in the star-light of the west
I saw the devil's daughter dancing on the sky.

She was wearing only moon-beams , just dripping honey.
She beguiled me with the desert and it's psychodelic peaks.
There was nothing I could be so she took me to my knees.
As I pondered haunting, dark soliliques.

When the whispers of the spiders had cresendoed
And the rancid dream of demons faded below me
I was blinded by the vision given me by such derision
As my little Cuban skeezer bent to blow me..
Heard the whisper of the breeze , Saw her standing on her knees.
In the biblical sence she finally came to know me......
RITE THERE IN THE DIRTY PAINTED DESERT!
5/26/04 flagstaff