The hot sands can kill you
But it's the phantom sirens
That you really need to fear
They will lure you to the red wastes
Because they know that you
Are beyond their clutches here
But it takes little to escape them
Weave rushes into mats
Braid palm leaves for hours on end
Wait for serenity to descend
Don't speak too often
Don't ever raise your voice
And never start a fight
And don't forget to make the brown bread
It can last us months
If you do it right
And whenever you are idle
Weave rushes into mats
Braid palm leaves for hours on end
Wait for serenity to descend
The hot sands can kill you
But it's the phantom sirens
That you really need to fear
They will lure you to the red wastes
But don't worry
You're beyond their clutches here
