I never felt like feelin' all right,   I was satisfied with just taking to flight.   These clothes are not my own they never were,   My eyes refused to focus on the blur.       And the Red Sky come creepin in   My motor warms me from within.       Drivin' down the road too fast and high,   My palms were wet but my throat was dry.   We made tracks from Butte to Aberdeen,   We were runnin' low on winks and gasoline.       And the Red Sky come creepin in   My motor warms me from within.       Driving down the road I heard a cry,   It was a man with a baby down by the riverside.   A tiny congregation watched and smiled,   As the man with gentle hands baptised the child.       And the Red Sky come creepin in   My motor warms me from within.