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.