[Intro: Slow, swampy acoustic slide guitar. The sound of heavy boots crunching on gravel.] [Vocals: Gravelly, drawling, and weathered, like Caleb Followill of Kings of Leon] [Verse 1] Got a vagrant in the courtyard drinking from the public well Smelling like the highway and a pocketful of hell I chained his wrists in iron, marched him past the county line Told him this oasis and the aquifer are mine. He didn’t plead for mercy and he didn't shed a tear Not a single drop of sweat despite the hottest day this year. He shimmered in the heatwave, barely leaving footprints in the dust I left him to the vultures and the unforgiving crust. [Pre-Chorus] [Drums kick in with a heavy, stomping four-on-the-floor beat. Electric guitars roar to life.] The thermometer is breaking, the asphalt starts to melt The cruelest execution that this canyon ever dealt. I’m walking back to safety where the ceiling fans rotate Leaving him to wither in the devil's real estate. [Chorus] [Huge, gritty wall of Southern rock sound. Cymbals crashing.] The wasteland is a furnace, the coyotes want a bite! There ain't no absolution in the blinding yellow light! I run this little kingdom, I’m the law and I’m the thirst! If you try to take my water, you will face the desert first! [Verse 2] [Music pulls back to a tight, driving bassline and a snare rim-click.] [Vocals: Lower, more relaxed, arrogant] I kick my muddy boots upon the polished oak wood desk The silence of the office is entirely picturesque. I take a frosted tumbler, pour the pitcher to the brim The ice is clinking softly as I say a prayer for him. But the liquid in the glass is looking murky in the light Shifting like a mirage on a lonely summer night. [Pre-Chorus] [Guitars build tension with palm-muted chugging.] I tip it to my lips because my throat is feeling dry Swallow down the freezing draft and let a heavy sigh. But the chill is turning jagged, scraping down against the bone The vagrant wasn't human, he was born of dust and stone. [Chorus] [Explosive volume, aggressive delivery] The wasteland is a furnace, the coyotes want a bite! There ain't no absolution in the blinding yellow light! I run this little kingdom, I’m the law and I’m the thirst! If you try to take my water, you will face the desert first! [Bridge] [Tempo slows to a menacing, heavy crawl. Dissonant guitar wails.] [Vocals: Choking, panicked, raspy] The water isn't water! It is boiling, shifting sand! It’s filling up my stomach, it is freezing up my hand! I’m coughing up a dune across the leather of my chair! He was an apparition woven from the arid air! [Guitar Solo] [Blistering, distorted blues-rock solo, sliding wildly up the neck, simulating the chaotic heat of the desert, lasting 16 bars] [Outro] [Music grinds to a heavy, sludgy halt] [Vocals: Guttural, suffocating] Calcifying from the inside. The badge is turning rust. He wanted all my water. Now I'm crumbling into dust. Just deserts. Just... dust. [A final heavy drum hit, followed by the sound of crumbling sand hitting the floor]
