Up from the sands of the mighty

Sahara comes, our hero bold,

who so its told, is a lot like you

and me. His passion burns, the

world it turns, he fills his had to fill

the void, and fuels the constant

feeling, of nothingness insided his

soul.



Feels like nothing ever did.

Kills like nothing ever could.

Dark and jaded world I hated,

everything I left behind. I don't

need you, and I dont want you,

world that left me blind.



Beneath the sands of the mighty

Sahara lies, buried treasure

sunken deep in darkened tombs

where dead men sleep. Gold fills

hands, or is it sand, the same that

covers everything? Where cities

stood, soon deserts found, now

sink beneath the swelling ground.



The world is for the taking. This

world is suffocating. Plastic bags

of novacain, some PCP to kill the

pain. Build a tomb to store you

rust, moth-eaten piles of blowing

dust.



Uner the sands of the mighty

Sahara, goes our hero bold,

in search of gold, a casket for a

dying world. Our hero stands,

with wealth in hand, the prize for his

endeavors. The masses cheer, to

hide thier fears that no man lives

forever.