Courier of the Mojave Dust

Boot prints fade in the sand behind me, Sun’s long dead but the heat

still bites. Got a map full of lies in my pocket, And a debt

that’s owed in blood and nights. Vegas glows like a ghost on the horizon,

Neon bones in a broken land. Every step is a gamble with the reaper,

But I ain’t folding this hand. I walk through the dust of the Mojave,

Where the past won’t stay in its grave. Every choice cuts deep like a

razor, Every soul here’s trying to be saved. But I’ll keep

moving on through the wasteland, Till the truth finally shows its face.