They’ll fight dusty wars, like warriors in tales,
In houses that creak with the wind’s howling wails.
They’re like the folks who in huts do reside,
With dreams that are fragile and castles inside.
We built homes of clay like toys in a yard,
Where life plays a game, though the rules hit hard.
Off they march, to chase distant thrones,
Like kings on donkeys, rattling their bones.
No wonder the earth, in a curious plight,
Hides treasures deep, like a mole in the night.
Our land, with its hues so strange and stark,
Holds men like women and women who bark.
From the dusty towns to the lightning lanes,
It rains like clouds have lost their brains.
With soggy heads, they wander along,
Singing to storms their ridiculous song!
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