Sixty miles north of a militarized zone is a place I call my home
The Devil’s Highway lures and kills dreams left unfulfilled
Here death is like breathing…
Overworked and underpaid. Too much sun not enough rain
But here I stay the native son. Too torn to leave, too tired to run
This place once so resolute now verging on the destitute
Home is where the heart is, hell is where the home is
Laws change. People die. The land remains.
Laws change. People die. The land remains.
In this city of dust. City Of Dust.
Despite this drought, the tide will turn
Despite this drought, the tide will turn
Despite this drought, the tide will turn
This may be my last chance I get to express all my disgust
An all American wasteland about to get fatally crushed
Here death is like breathing…
Don’t blame the scapegoat It’s the iron walls, the bane of us all
No dignity in settling for silver in this land of copper
And I don’t know if I have the spirit to stomach this anymore
Home is where the heart is, hell is where the home is
Laws change. People die. The land remains.
Laws change. People die. The land remains.
In this city of dust. City Of Dust.
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