Fake Plants - Lost Landscape Lyrics

The sun goes down
The moon makes it's rounds
The stars they provide us a map over mesas and dunes
Desert roses bloom

The sun goes down
The moon makes it's rounds

The sun's a golden gun aiming down at the heart and souls of these old ghost towns
Tumble weeds roam on the range
We all keep eyes on the birds of prey, rain gods approve of the way they pray

The moon goes down
The sun makes it's rounds
Clouds drift above silhouettes as the sun burst thru
If the rain gods only knew

The moon goes down
The sun makes it's rounds

The moons a crescent dream that awakes the push and pull of a lost landscape
Restless souls stir in the night
A tethered thirst of a dream holds tight, as sun beams make light of the weathered seams