Desert Ground

A hand woven basket my mother did make,

Strewn on the path I trod to sweet fields of cane

High over cairo, the valley of kings,

Where the desert called their bodies down

“Come on down to the desert ground”

The lord of sand, he calls out

Come on down to the desert ground

Down to the desert ground, I come down

It came down in a hurry, twirling in the air,

And the lives upon this air balloon spoke their final prayer.

Now the canes stood high, holding out their hand,

Though the desert’s hand was mightier

And no fall, could it withstand

And lay there, a mother, her daughter and son,

The only three to last the fall

And tell of what’d been done.

How the desert rules with an iron

Fist and nay believes in truth or grace,

And once bound by the desert sound, ne’er we will escape