Some of us still have sand in our pockets,
Will carry it for the rest of our lives.
A piece of the desert forever shaping us,
That speck of dust in our eyes.
Treasure found in the darkness,
Which may not look like treasure at all,
That wind-swept wilderness embrace,
Still gripping our all-in-all.
I’m glad for the desert king,
The one who walked that scrubland,
Knows its embrace and sting,
Has grit in the cracks of his hand.
So we walk with him today,
Through the rocks and the rubble and strife,
Offering all that we do and say,
To the one who understands life.