The desert called; its tone silent.
 It asked me out, and so I went.

One patch of dune looked like the rest;
 so, I couldn't tell which place was best

to burn just like a slice of bread
 stuck in the slot, 'mid burning threads:

those glowing wires, exuding heat
 that burn the head and burn the feet.

And so, I marched across the sands
 in search of more temperate lands,

but I never reached such a place
 and vanished there, without a trace.