The hot winds hit like a mace
Flesh withers before the blast
Just a daily case
The south winds blow too fast
All to blame none to take
Far away or close at hand
Pretends to real but often fake
False dreams made of shiny sand
The storms they twist will they hold
The slippery one that lies in wait
The one pretends to be so bold
And leads from the rear by fate
My Gifted Life 