Claude The Armadillo
Claude was an Armadillo
Traveled the great big south
Had a bag made a shark skin leather
And a matchstick in his mouth
He was old and strong
From living long
Had a coat made of armoured plate
His secret to livin’s that he always digested
Everything he ate
I was walking a road in Albuquerque
Thinking I was in the west
When I heard his voice
Above the noise he said
“Chris stop and take a rest”
I said hello Claude it’s been awhile
He extended his dusty paw
I’ve been watching your world from a distance
Darndest thing I ever saw
He said I was out in Colorado
Just a diggin myself a home
When I came across this tunnel
Underneath a great big dome
With some suspicious guys
About your size
Talking awfully quiet
Something about a missile target
Something about a riot
They were moving a metal pickle
Full a funny looking wires
And it was on a great big skateboard
With little metal tires
It might be nothing really
But it scared me near to death
Claude looked rather sober
Then he took a deeper breath
He said armadillos aren’t always gray man
Some of us are brown
Some of us are almost red
From being out on the town
Our differences aren’t so complex
If you look us in the eyes
I wonder what's behind a humans
Outermost disguise
Now Claude removed the matchstick
Hanging from his lip
Removing several others
Strapped upon his hip
He said suppose that you and I
Were both covered in gas
And living in a space so small
That nothing else could pass
Suppose we then were both to gather
Several of these matches
You get more and I get more
Till’ we both have several batches
Still takes a single spark
To set us both ablaze
In gathering a deadly thing
We'll find it never pays
I suppose I should apologize
For my entire race
The sadness in me mounted
Claude could see it on my face
And I thought of little children
And gentle summer rains
And lastly of the armadillos
Just grazing on the plains
I dusted off my blue jeans
And polished off my beer
Wishing all the while
There was someone else to hear