Standard (EADGBE)
No regrets Coyote, we just come from such different sets of circumstance
I'm up all night in the studio while you're up early on your ranch
You'll be brushing out a brood mare's tail while the sun is ascending
And I'll just be getting home with my reel to reel, there's no comprehending
Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes and the lips
You can get and still feel so alone, and still feel related
Like stations in some relay, you're not a
Hit and run driver no, no, racing away
You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
We saw a farmhouse burning down, in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night
And we rolled right past that tragedy, till we rolled into some roadhouse lights
Where a local band was playin', locals were kickin' and shakin' on the floor
The next thing I know that Coyote's at my door
He pins me in the corner and he won't take "No!"
He drags me out on the dance floor and we're dancin' close and slow
Now he's got a woman at home, he's got another woman down the hall
And he seems to want me anyway
Why'd you have to get so drunk and lead me on that way
You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
I looked the Coyote right in the face on the road to Baljennie near my old home town
He went runnin' through the whisker wheat, chasin' some prize down
And a hawk was playin with him, Coyote was jumpin' straight up and makin' passes
He had those same eyes just like yours under your dark glasses
Privately probing the public rooms, peeking through keyholes in numbered doors
Where the players lick their wounds and take their temporary lovers
And their pills and powders to get them through this passion play
No regrets Coyote, I just get off up aways
You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
Coyote's in the coffee shop, he's staring a hole in his scrambled eggs
He picks up my scent on his fingers while he's watching the waitresses legs
He's too far from the Bay of Fundy, Appaloosas and eagles and tides
And the air conditioned cubicles and the carbon ribbon rides
Are spelling it out so clear
Either he's gonna have to stand and fight or take off out of here
I tried to run away myself, to run away and wrestle with my ego
And with this flame, you put here in this Eskimo
In this hitcher, in this prisoner, of the fine white lines
Of the white lines on the free, free way
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