Photo by cyclewidow on Flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

It stands there alone in the hot desert sun
Covered by the wind-blown sands skeleton
A once mighty beast who had last fallen down
Like the many old buildings in a tired ghost town

Built on the dreams of the young men who came
The fire went out like a mining town optimism flame
Months turned to minutes in this instant gold watch
But when the gold turned to sand, the town turned to dust
For those lucky few who struck it rich life was grand
But boomtown evaporated when most found only sand
Miners grasp the grains of sand watch the many pieces dropping
Shifting, sifting sanded hands of time, no way of stopping

Like a herd of stampeding buffalo, the miners charged the local streams
The sun reflecting gold on the crystal water as they searched for golden dreams
They kicked up the dust, destroying and trampling all in their path
Eyes gleaming gold, horns of greed, madly rushing, fighting to get their claim fast

Town fell apart; god-less gold-less men would leave soon
Leaving behind their rusted pans and their imprisonment by the piano man’s tunes
They had rode in on horseback kicked up dreamy dust at dawn
They had searched for that elusive gold dust for so long
Miners finally left with a dusty rush, the calm after a hurricane
Pristine, pure and rolling mountains left silent once again