The Desert Plays Mean Tricks On a Man
Weaving before me, or was it me weaving
The palm tree seemed to shimmer
In the hazy red sun beating down
My weary eyes growing dimmer...
The desert will play mean tricks on a man
Take away his breath; shrink his lifespan...
Raised my canteen to my lips, though hot the drink
Soothed my thirst; gave me precious moments to think
But I looked up like a fool; saw the palm tree fade
Replaced by screeching hyenas, of me unafraid...
Just then the sun dropped below the horizon
Stifling heat swept away, a pale moon arisin'
I dismounted my camel and fell to my knees
Drained the canteen; said this prayer, O Lord, please --
Save me tonight from death's clutch on the morrow
That I know no more thirst or bodily sorrow
'Cos the desert will play mean tricks on a man
Take away his breath; shrink his lifespan...
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