I'm always one to love the desert blunt.

I will walk out in dust-- and back in dust.

I will outwalk the fartest water font.

I will look o'er the bleakest barren crust.

I will pass by people who want inside

And raise my face, most willing out of frost.

I will wear sweaters on my heated hide

Then fare away from others seeming lost

As they just think they could have died.

But I ignore it all, my smile not lost:

That fiery ball of light still on the hunt;

On me his eforts are all quite lost,

So he will always wonder with a grunt.

I'm always one to love the desert blunt.