West Desert Journal by Nathan Cowlishaw

Don’t think of love cause it’s not real.
A little rest would do me good.
I’m ridin this ol’ Greyhound from
Utah to Arizonaland and it isn’t too bad.
I close my eyes or
watch the clouds out the tinted windows.
Don’t think of love.
Just listen to the old timer
pickin the banjo in the headphones,
singing the Crawdad Song.
There isn’t any going back,
cept to moving forward and keeping a real dream.
Because beauty comes deep from the center.
I’ve been tellin a story of how the impossible happened,
But a story is all it was.
The landscape unfolds in front of the road
under the black desert sun.

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw