Up from the sands of the mighty
Sahara comes, our hero bold,
who so it's told, is a lot like you
and me.  Hi passion burns, the
world it turns, he fills his hand to fill
the void, and fuels the constant
feeling, of nothingness inside 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 don't 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.

This world is for the taking.  This
world is suffocating.  Plastic bags
of Novocain, some PCP to kill the
pain.  Build a tomb to store your
rust, moth-eaten piles of blowing
dust.

Under the sands of the mighty
Sahara, goes our hero bold,
in search of gold, a casket for a
dying world.  Our hero stands,
wealth in hand, the prize for his
endeavors.  The masses cheer, to
hide their fears that no man lives
forever.