MY CRYSTAL BALL

AS FAR AS MY EYES COULD SEE
THE DESERT SAND BECKONS TO ME,
FROM THE SKY LIKE RAIN I FELL,
TO THIS SCORCHING DESERT HELL.

THERE WERE NO BIRDS THAT FLY ABOVE, 
NO LIPS TO KISS IN LOVE,
NO VOICE OF HARSH REPLY, 
IN THIS DESERT, EVERYTHING DIES.

AS I FOLLOW THE SETTING SUN,
MY PARCHED LIPS 
FOR A DROP OF WATER YEARNS,
BUT THE DESERT SAND HAS DRANK IT ALL 
I’M LOST IN AN ILLUSION,
PLAYING WITH MY CRYSTAL BALL.

WILFORD BARKER.