Angel of the Painted Desert
Out on the painted desert
the sun plays tricks with your mind
when you’re achin' for a drop of rain
throat parched and eyes half blind.
High on the plains of devil's bluff
she came ridin' o'er the rise.
Her gentle hands were water
quenching the thirst in his eyes.
He tumbled from his saddle
no longer able to ride.
Swift with the wings of an angel
she was kneeling at his side.
Tending his wounds, quenching his thirst,
she robbed his soul from the dead.
When he awoke she’d disappeared
but her image danced in his head.
On that lonely sandy stretch
of shapeless shifting dunes
broken wishes lay beside
lost buried treasure ruins.
Skeletons lay sleeping
under rusty wagon wheels.
Was he only dreaming
or was that angel real?
Out on that painted desert
where the sand dunes meet the sky,
he still sees her ridin'
the dusty trails of his mind.
High on the plains of devil's bluff,
where the sun bends down to kneel,
mysterious things can happen
and he swears that angel was real.