Dust Bowl High

Sunglasses shade me under fig trees, Our star weights heavy on a basket case, No warm embrace for the northern forests, We horde this titan for our own shores, Roll and rock and roll your mind to the vast expanse, Die inside before your time, before the reaper calls, Sticks and stones, stones into bread, The dust in the is bowl is going to my head, Clothed in horrors and horns, devouring native villages in my path, A sinister wind propels our ships of dragon skin, Colors shift to thoughts, trees to pillars of salt, In this, the most unlikely of platforms for rebirth