Far across the desert 
Over the dusty cracking earth,

There is a man of legend 

Who lives a life of dearth. 

Inside his soul is hollow,

Devoid of love or light. 

His heart is pruned and withered 

And his blood runs black as night. 
His name I cannot speak it,

His look I can’t describe. 

But you’ll know him by the piercing

Daggers in his eyes. 

No man or maid dare wander

Into the hovel of his room. 

Inside he keeps such secrets

That no one should consume. 
I hear he lived a wondrous life

Had a wife and two fine kids.

But fatal fate had turned one day

And broke his love to bits. 

He turned his back to the sun

And wandered off the edge,

For years no one has seen him

But I just can’t forget. 
For I know him in the silent

And wounded on this road.

I’ve seen him in the eyes of those

Who’ve lost all self control. 

I’ve felt him move inside me

And whisper to me lies.

He runs in tear-like rivers

That pour forth from his disguise. 
So if you come to know him

Don’t look into his eyes,

Don’t sit down at his table

Or in his water you’ll baptise.

He’ll turn your soul to desert 

An arid desolate land. 

And you’ll too wear the scars

Of this broken bloodily man. 
So while I’ve got a voice to speak,

While there is hope within my heart.

I choose to spark a candle

That holds back his deadly dark. 

We all must learn to live here

Side by side with every man

And accept that there’s a balance 

In time’s silver shifting sands. 
Far across the desert

The wind it howls and moans. 

But devil’s cannot speak the names

Of things they can’t control. 
Phillip Mellor 2015