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We gather once more, ravenous for asphalt. Packs loaded, unloaded, loaded again. Miles come back like old songs, the roar of engine's, the hum of wheels. A coyote almost turns to roadkill, but the need to see the west wind keeps him alive

Engines roar like a devil out on the run

One after another

Riding into the sun

There’s a storm coming down to wash it all away,

All the filth, all the heartache

And every word that ya say...

Sweet stench of Sulfur mixed with the oil burning wild Shadows form in a whirlwind

Riding forsaken plains

Horns filled with fire forging Crosses of Iron

Rip through the darkness with a blinding spark

Their laughter is wild howling into the void,

Ancient Rites tear the silence apart

One sun is setting another one still on the rise

The black one, the white one

Both dead as the dreams in our eyes

My fingers stretch toward the horizon

But I’m dying of thirst on my own