From

the

dus-

ty

me-

sa

Her

loom-

ing

sha-

dow

grows

Hid-

den

in

the

bran-

ches

of

the

poi-

son

cre-

o-

sote

She

twines

her

spines

up

slow-

ly

To-

wards

the

bo-

i-

ling

sun

And

when

I

touched

her

skin

My

fin-

gers

ran

with

blood

In

the

hush-

ing

dusk

un-

der

a

swol-

len

sil-

ver

moon

I

came

wal-

king

with

the

wind

to

watch

the

cac-

tus

bloom

And

strange

hands

hal-

ted

me,

the

loo-

ming

sha-

dows

danced

I

fell

down

to

the

thor-

ny

brush

and

felt

the

tremb-

ling

hands

When

the

last

light

warms

the

rocks

And

the ratt-

le-

snakes

un-

fold

Moun-

tain

cats

will

come

to

drag

a-

way

your

bones

And

rise

with

me

for-

e-

ver

Ac-

ross

the

si-

lent

sand

And

the

stars

will

be

your

eyes

And

the

wind

will

be

my

hands