Dust Bowl Dream

Play a role till the gold of your soul runs dry leave the ghost town far enough behind through the parched winter of the mind search for virgin glitter on the next horizon The sirens sing to endless weaknesses it takes everything not to cave in... again take up the rusted sifter and battered spade while digging for gold you're making your grave ghosts of old town, sliding on down from the mountain Roses are tossed to the echoes of the lost the soul finds a fresh role in the shadow of a dust bowl dreaming.