We pass through
the desert
and I drink your eyes
like a Bedouin prince
dark and mysterious

We stop in
the center of Indio Springs
your magical rings
of silver and gold you sell
at Indio Well

You buy the water
and then
your hands they spin
the silken thread to
make our bed

And when we lay
beneath the moon
your voice it carries
the wind
across the dune

Through this mirage
this land of disguise
where I go
only this I know:

It is your eyes