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...