Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coyote, artist - Sun Kil Moon. Album song I Also Want to Die in New Orleans, in the genre Инди
Date of issue: 28.02.2019
Record label: Caldo Verde
Song language: English
Coyote |
You pointed out the fence, it was leaning towards the neighbor’s house |
The waterlogged firewood from the last few winters had become one with the fence |
The mold holding it all together, the weight of the wood |
The wind blowing in its direction |
The rain pouring down the hill was too much for the fence |
A few years earlier, I had an old tree chopped down |
That was leaning towards the house to protect the roof and for firewood |
And now I’ve got twenty yards of fence to rebuild |
I started bringing the heavy wet logs into the back area |
Into what I referred to as the Dungeon Area, two or so at a time |
The doc said I need more exercises, I said, «What kind of exercises?» |
She said, «It doesn’t matter, any kind» |
I figured I have to get some of it out of the way |
To help whoever I’d hire to repair the fence |
I was breaking out with sweat |
When a neighbor appeared out of nowhere and said, «How's it going, neighbor?» |
Why did he have to build a house on that empty lot |
With tall oaks and pines and sequoias there? |
Year after year, the grass would grow so tall and get so dry |
That the property was a borderline fire hazard |
I called a real estate agent and offered to buy that plot of land |
But the owner never accepted my offer |
I want to maintain my privacy, the house was so enchanting |
Set back in all the trees I’d bought the house for curb appeal and seclusion |
The signs on the street that said Deer Crossing |
And I went out there one day and the trees in the lot were chopped down |
Then I went out there another day and foundation was built |
And now there’s a house next door and a neighbor guy I never met |
Until just now when he said, «Hey, how are you doing?» |
I said, «I'm okay, thanks"and then I walked back into the Dungeon |
I dropped the logs I was holding on the cement floor and closed the door behind |
me |
I came back into the house through the Dungeon from another door into the |
kitchen |
And said, «This is not how I wanted to spend my fucking day» |
Drenched with sweat, I got an iced tea from the fridge |
And walked up to the highest point in my yard |
And sat in the sun next to my hot tub |
To remind myself why I bought the home in the first place |
I looked off at the pines off in the foothills and called my friend |
She told me about a strange Chinese restaurant in North Canton, Ohio |
A five year old girl was discovered in a freezer, murdered by her mother |
Her mom got 22 years, the father of her child got a life sentence for |
influencing |
And manipulating the mother into being the abusive mother she’d become |
My friend also said a dead body was discovered on 8th Street in Massillon |
Not far from my father’s home |
She said the police got a tip, found the body buried six feet deep (Six feet |
deep) |
And they also discovered three neglected kids in the house |
All of them under three years old (Under three years old) |
Unaccompanied by adults and a neglected dog in the basement (In the basement) |
I came back into the house and did what I came here to do |
Dove into my 2017 expenses |
You were watching news upstairs (You were watching news upstairs) |
A coyote was walking around with a jar on his head, suffocating (With a jar on |
his head) |
Someone had some footage of him roaming around (Roaming around) |
The newscaster said (The newscaster said) |
«Keep a lookout for him"but they estimated he had 48 hours to live (48 hours to |
live) |
I can’t take too much of the news anymore, political things are toxic enough |
Then there’s news of dead children, coyotes suffocating |
And neglected dogs without food or water and basements |
So we switched channels |
There was a band on TV, I’d never seen them before |
To my recollection, there were 12 people pushing buttons in stationary positions |
The singer sounded like an even simpler Simple Minds, if that’s possible |
But I could pretty much watch anybody perform, to be honest |
One of my favorite performers is Jimmy Swaggart |
I could watch him sing gospels all day |
But anyhow, after Psalm 4, the silver staff band |
He said, «Please change this, I can’t take it anymore, this sounds like Tears |
for Fears» |
I thought about texting a friend about how depressed I was by this band |
By I didn’t feel like the back and forth that could potentially happen |
At 51, you got to call your shots |
On how your prioritize your time and your back and forths |
Then I spent the day working, doing more things for my house |
The neverending fix-up that my mom said I’ll be working on until the day that I |
die |
The Money Pit, is the chimney guy calling? |
The first guy to ever enter my home to do repair on my house |
It’s always something, always |
At 10 P.M., you said you smelled a skunk («I smell a skunk») |
And you were right, the odor got more intense |
I took a piss outside to see if I could smell the skunk and I didn’t |
While I was taking a piss, I looked up at the moon |
And my god it was beautiful (I looked up at the moon) |
And it smelled like pine (Smelled like pine) |
All my headaches went away for just that moment in time (Moment in time) |
I came back inside and told you |
I couldn’t smell the skunk outside («I can’t smell the skunk outside») |
But how powerful the scent was when I came back in through the dining room |
I walked up into the master bedroom and the smell was even worse up there |
You’d been on the internet researching and decided it was not a skunk |
But a gas leak into the house that was going to explode |
You said, «Put your jacket on fast and take a few things |
And don’t do anything to cause sparks» |
I said, «I have nothing on me that would cause anything to make sparks» |
You said it again, you said, «Don't do anything to make sparks» |
I said, «I don’t smoke cigarettes or have any matches |
Or anything at all to make any fucking sparks» |
You said, «Well, if you do have anything to make any kind of friction, |
it could cause sparks» |
And at that point, I kept my mouth shut |
I followed you along down the stairs |
I said, «Whatever you need from me, whatever you need |
Just let me know what you need» |
We took the battery powered lantern from the porch |
And I walked around the house and proved to you |
That there are no gas lines coming into my home |
I know this home like the back of my hand |
You finally calmed down, and I was upset that we had missed Saturday Night Live |
We came back in, and you told me |
To look around the big old spooky house for the skunk |
It was 1:30 in the morning, I said, «What the fuck am I going to do if I find a |
skunk? |
I’m not a skunk catcher, you want me to go into the basement |
And see if there’s a skunk down there, that’s where you think he is? |
Sorry, but I wouldn’t even know what to do if I cornered a skunk» |
I said to you, «Look, here’s the deal, we’re leaving tomorrow |
Who knows how long it’s gonna be until we’re back here? |
The skunk is a welcome guest in my home |
This is my home and I got taxes to work on |
And I don’t want to talk about the skunk anymore» |
She said, «Calm down, Mark» |
That you’ve been researching more and that skunks were foragers |
And I said, «What does 'forager' mean?» |
You said, «They don’t stay in one spot long» |
And I said, «Well there you go, he’ll be gone within the next few days |
Problem solved, the skunk problem is resolved» |
We were exhausted, we considered leaving but it was late out there |
We went to bed, the smell of skunk in the air |
I was up until 3 o’clock in the morning, reading A Confederacy of Dunces |
Tired of all the bickering we’ve been through |
We tend to have this bickering way about us |
On these fast «Quick, let’s go check on the house"visits |
I woke up at 6 o’clock in the morning |
My heart was racing, I couldn’t fall back asleep |
So I woke you up and we walked into town |
I got a bagel, you got an iced coffee and I got an iced tea |
We came back and did the usual routines |
Locked up the house, shut off the water |
Left money for the maid, turned on the alarm system, and set the thermostat |
And I took photos of the early blooming daffodils and sent them to my friend |
I sat at the top of the hill again, taking in the sun again |
And trying to remember why I ever bought this house in the first place again |
A hummingbird was buzzing around me by the bamboo |
Smoke was coming out of the chimneys |
I don’t understand myself |
I spend the first 18 years of my life trying to get out of a 3 bedroom house |
With a yard full of sticks and squirrels |
And way later in life, I ended up buying a 3 bedroom house |
With a yard full of sticks and squirrels |
You were in the kitchen, dehydrating vegetables |
With the dehydrator your father gave you |
I walked down the hill, my back hurting, into the living room door |
You said, «I'm done dehydrating vegetables, I’m packed and ready to go» |
It was still the faint smell of skunk lingering in the house |
It was Super Bowl Sunday and the traffic going back to San Francisco was hell |
You dropped me off at my place, and I’ve known you long enough to know |
That look on your face that says «I don’t want to see you for a couple of days» |
So I left you alone, cleaned my apartment, made my bed |
Opened some windows, cleaned my hardwood floors |
And I dumped the bag of 2017 paperwork on the living room floor |
You sent me a text, «Yay, they rescued the coyote |
And got the jar off his head, he survived» |