She carries the water from the well in the morning

while the sand burns her feet the sun only stares

and the loneliness lingers with slow grasping fingers

as the afternoon withers the flowers in her hair



Then night fills the sky as she sits on the hillside

and memories drift by like clouds past the stars

recalling romances and all the bright chances

but none of them lasted. they passed through her heart



And she says -

where is a man who can build a good fire

with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon

a man whose hand is strong as his longing

where is the man who can lasso the moon



She falls asleep and her dreams are her blanket

and she shares with the moon the secret she knows

as the dawn leaves its tears to wash the dry valley

the tears of a woman can wash a man's soul



And she says -

where is a man who can build a good fire

with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon

a man whose hand is strong as his longing

where is the man who can lasso the moon



And she says -

where is a man who can build a good fire

with a passion as wide as the sky at high noon

a man whose hand is strong as his longing

where is the man who can lasso the moon



and I say -

I am a man who can build a good fire

and my passion's as wide as the sky at high noon

come take my hand, it's as strong as your longing

just say the word and I'll lasso the moon