He used to play his flute to the desert sands
Caressing her soft body in a devouring storm
"Stop being like the sands, be more like the rocks"
Then he promised not to wander off alone
When the desert winds blew he held tight to the tent
Blocking his ears not to hear or breathe this sound
Wanderer, the desert said, "you're spent in a narrow tent".
And the sheep that cried in the valley were never found
Ho ho ho ho ho, a voice is calling me to get on the road
Ho ho ho ho ho, a voice is calling me to get on the road
And when the floods arrived he forgot his promise
He reached out his arms to touch the sound
Dancing madly among the reeds he was swept away
And the rocks spread their arms and left the ground
When he returned on his horse to strengthen the tent
She weaved colored threads into words on the wall
"Welcome betrayer, hold tight to the tent,
I have also been taken by the desert call".