In fits she cries herself to sleep
Counting castles instead of sheep
A flight of fancy, morning’s light
Can dry the eyes
That peer as caged past pillars high
Bearing desert skies
The desert sighs
The desert pants and plods along
A deaf ear to the res dogs’ song
Culture’s spurned, Nature’s despised
A feral heart
And yet seen through the res dogs’ eyes
How great thou art
How great thou art