Transit Moscow, 3:50 am,
The road and the sign and the rain,
He sees the border guards
Gaping at his tank,
And says: Open that gate
While you still can,
I am the armadillo man.

It does not matter
What country you are in,
Just stay here on base
With your own kind,
But he knew a patriot
Needs a strong free hand,
Now he's off to torch
That red-infested land,
Can't stop the armadillo man.

High-gabled houses
Loom through the rain,
He's on course for destiny,
With a whoosh and a whistle and a bang,
Bye bye armadillo man.

Least he went to see the other side,
While other people never even tried.