I left for the Mojave desert
with my phone in my backpack
I sent you a confession
but you never texted back
I walked into the desert brush
and ditched my car on the roadside
memories burn in the dark like cigarettes
the road ahead starts to unwind

I left no footprints in the sand
the heat burned away my tears
did you notice when I left?
was I ever here?
maybe I was MIA
before I disappeared
before I disappeared

night in the desert
with the cacti and bones
I begged the wind for answers
but it just rattled and moaned
a lone cactus leaned
and chuckled my name
my candle burning through the night
for help that never came

it hurts to see how easily
you forgot I was ever here
the vultures swoop in from above
and feast upon my fear
I was always MIA
before I disappeared
before I disappeared

I waited 20 years
for a call that never came
nothing spoke louder
than the words you didn't say
you will never see me
until its too late
whether I'm here or gone
alive or dead
doesn't matter anyway

stepped through the desert doorway
saw our hometown glitter in the sun
And then suddenly I saw you
getting off a subway bus
you said that I look just like
someone you used to know
whose body was found in the desert
about 20 years ago

you never even tried to help me
although I guess im not surprised
I guess I was always dead to you
long before I died
I was always dead to you
long before I died