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