Cracked earth fractures in the heat
As the barren land mourns.
No life perturbs the ground
But for a few crown of thorns.
Even the cacti are withered
And protrude like broken bones.
I planted them there with great care
And now my labour's fruits are borne.
I chose every rock to adorn this place,
I crafted and moulded every dune.
The sand that cuts like broken glass
I laid myself under the moon.
I tore the sky, no clouds do cover,
And the sun is harsh and cruel.
But I'm to blame for shadow's exile,
She's not to blame for sun's rule.
With loving hands I shaped the hills,
With minute detail I crafted the cacti's spines.
By day the land burns, by night freezes with no ice.
This is my wasteland of my own design.
God gave me green forests and bounty,
And lakes and vales to feed them.
He gave me chances to build cities
of gold, but I did not heed them.
Now even God has forsaken me,
Left me without even my sins to atone.
This is my wasteland, my own creation
And now I must live here alone.