From the dusty mesa
Her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches
Of the poison CreosoteShe twines her spines up slowly
Towards the boiling sun
And when I touched her skin
My fingers ran with blood
From the dusty mesa
Her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches
Of the poison CreosoteShe twines her spines up slowly
Towards the boiling sun
And when I touched her skin
My fingers ran with blood