You stand atop the adobe spine
Where heat waves warp the white line
Your copper skin turns green with time
While semis roar past sunset sign
The interstate don't know your name
Just cuts through saguaro shadow
You pivot on a rusted claim
While diesel engines shake the meadow
Copper saint in desert light
Spinning where the dark begins
No congregation left to sing
Just wind through bullet holes in tin
Your altar was a telephone wire
Where sparrows practiced counterpoint
Now static drowns the old choir
You're the last note holding tight
Copper saint in desert light
Spinning where the dark begins
No congregation left to sing
Just wind through bullet holes in tin
Altos hum in heat haze rise
Half-remembered Holy Holy
The highway doesn't compromise
It just keeps rolling low and lonely
Monsoon season paints you blue-black
Lightning writes in jagged script
You don't flinch you don't look back
Just catch the charge on copper lip
Tourists snap their phone-cam proof
Of something holy something old
They don't know the weight of roof
Or how the desert takes its toll
Copper saint in desert light
Spinning where the dark begins
No congregation left to sing
Just wind through bullet holes in tin
Spinning where the dark begins
Copper saint in desert light
