Outside of Albuquerque, about an hour north of there
She's got a house of three little Indians in the middle of nowhere
You wonder where her man went, you wonder if she minds
They've got smiles and healthy tummies, so you guess they're doing fine
She sells j**elry by the roadside, silver beads and things
She can weave a spell upon you with any song she sings
She's a desert flower growing free and wild
Her beauty seems so fragile, fragile as a child
And you want to take her with you, but you know she must remain
So you leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain
Turn yourself into the rain, turn yourself into the rain
You leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain
Her kids were playing leapfrog, jumping in the sand
I pulled my car off the road and parked beside her stand
She asked where I was going so fast and so alone
I told her how love was something I wasn't sure I'd ever known
She said: 'Maybe you never heard the desert sing her song at night
Or maybe you've just been trying much too hard to get it right'
She's a desert flower growing free and wild
Her beauty seems so fragile, fragile as a child
And you want to take her with you, but you know she must remain
So you leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain
Turn yourself into the rain, turn yourself into the rain
You leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain
Waving in my rear-view mirror
Then the next thing that I know
Are the broken lines on a long, black highway
Off to another show
She's a desert flower growing free and wild
Her beauty seems so fragile, fragile as a child
And you want to take her with you, but you know she must remain
So you leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain
Turn yourself into the rain, turn yourself into the rain
You leave her wishing you could turn yourself into the rain