Rivers in the Dust

The sweat cuts rivers in the dust on your face
While the wheels beneath complain
The wind still whistles through the haze
The sun shines like a razor blade
And the bones of crops and banknotes pave the way

The highways are lined with graves
Like the fingernails of giants
Like blood pulled through a vein
We rush the west in silence
And I am not the one you wanted here, but I will fill my post
Heaven's touch is often out of reach to those who want it most

You wear a rose from yesterday
Like the world is green and overgrown
And I wear a handkerchief around my mouth to keep the dust and ashes out, out, out
I dream a glass of water with you dreaming of the sea
And I'd watch my feet, and you would watch the sky
And we would wonder why our eyes no longer meet

It was hard to call the thing we saw a storm
Like it had climbed from the pages of some novel
And the sheets of dust hit everything, like waves against the rocks
It was morning, but I'd be damned if I could tell
And you would hold my hand and close your eyes
And I didn't mind

When hell bears its teeth, you learn your face
And this godforsaken sun could be the moon
For all it provides
Eyes are on the road
Before it disappears again