The moon is bright and high tonight
and truly, so am I.
My fingers touch the steering wheel;
the desert’s warm and dry.
I make frequent stops, get out a lot;
there’s much work to be done.
I don’t know why I do it: not for profit, not for fun.
But there’s a point behind this endless ride
and all this reckless beauty …
spending all these lonely nights on armadillo duty.
I loved a girl in the town of Orange.
She loved me back sometimes.
Her house was hung with hawk feathers.
Her heart was strong and fine.
I pushed her away. That’s what they say.
I didn’t know it till I was done.
I don’t know why I do that: not for profit, not for fun.
Chorus