find treasure in the west,
on a golden coast your crimson head,
the desert’s edge where you build your home.
where the orange groves asleep,
across the world the highways bleed,
to that desert’s edge where you built you home.
the bird falls from the nest,
catches the wind and leaves the west,
the desert’s edge where you leave your home.
at night across the plains,
to an eastern coast, the empire state,
far from the desert’s edge where you leave your home.
and now you stretch your voice across,
electric wire and snow caps bars,
the desert’s edge you can still hear you home.
you can hear it in the sand,
if you put your ears to that red land,
that desert’s edge where you left your home.
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