| A smashed windshield, the dust on a pickup truck
|
| Shine with silver secrets in the Albuquerque sun
|
| The light makes jewels of pawn shops and drive-thru banks
|
| Wrinkled faces staring out the windows of the laundromat
|
| And even the broken glass scattered in the street
|
| Shines like a thousand diamond rings
|
| Neon signs above the old motels, warehouse stores and strip malls
|
| Houses sprawled across the hills
|
| The sunset’s a bird with wings made out of fire
|
| Parking lots turn to gold as it glides across the sky
|
| And every night from 6:00 to 6:05
|
| The desert dirt shimmers like a sea of watermelon light
|
| Even the broken glass shattered in the street
|
| Shines like a thousand diamond rings |