Hotel room in Phoenix, quarter to three
Sleep, she ain’t a lover that’ll come and cover me
So I breathe slow and close my eyes
Staring at a sunburnt sky

Feeling like an outlaw, out here on the run
Kicking up the dust and trying to have a little fun
Now I’m thirsty as hell and the well’s run dry
Underneath this sunburnt sky

Oh go easy on me darlin
Oh the only thing I need
Is to hear your voice in the morning
Talk to me. Talk to me.

Lord it’s Easter Sunday, can’t get out of bed
Heat out on the street well it could surely raise the dead
And I don’t know the reason why
I’m haunted by this sunburnt sky

And I don’t know the reason why
I’m haunted by this sunburnt sky