they are pilgrims of the desert
land of the Apache
this is where my people came from
the memories of family
sometimes try to catch me
underneath the setting sun
and the desert stars shine bright
in clusters and galaxies
they illuminate the night
in the disguise of serenity
they are pilgrims of the desert
where water is gold
and the cactus stands in bloom
and the sun burns like fire
and all the songs are old
and the empty miles have lots of elbow room
I cannot imagine
what my grandparents felt
the hard times and passion
and the hands that they were dealt
they are pilgrims of the desert
uncles, aunts and cousins
a homeland north of Mexico
now we live all over
families by the dozen
children with lives yet to be known
still the stars light up the sky
through centuries of history
endless years go by
in search of the mystery
they are pilgrims of the desert
land of the Apatche
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