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019. _the painted desert

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The sand so deep
The land so wide
The stillness on which echoes glide
The land so wide
The sand so deep
The burning blue; so vast; so steep
And only truth remains in stone -
An age of glass, an age of bone
An age of ruin, an age of glory -
And every face tells a story...
Underneath the million skies
Only bodies burn and die,
While spirit, magic, myth live on
Silent voice to those now gone

And we who walked the sand
The time before the time before,
Are pleased to be all rock and dust
Blown on the wind, and so; no more