Map The Microphones

[Verse 1]
Oh, the sand
Oh, the spark
Oh, the open land
The swelling dark
Oh, my hands
Oh, my airy palms
Oh, the lack
Oh, my bending back
Oh, the size
Of my empty lap
Oh, my map
To distant foot hills' rise

[Verse 2]
Open hands
Oh, the span
Oh, the swelling sound
Over massive rounds