Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coyote, artist - The Band. Album song The Last Waltz, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 15.12.2002
Record label: Warner, Warner Strategic Marketing
Song language: English
Coyote |
No regrets Coyote |
We just come from such different sets of circumstance |
I’m up all night in the studios |
And 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 pulled into some road house lights |
Where a local band was playing |
Locals were up kicking and shaking on the floor |
And the next thing I know |
That coyote’s at my door |
He pins me in a corner and he won’t take no |
He drags me out on the dance floor |
And we’re dancing close and slow |
Now he’s got a woman at home |
He’s got another woman down the hall |
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 a coyote right in the face |
On the road to Baljennie near my old home town |
He went running through the whisker wheat |
Chasing some prize down |
And a hawk was playing with him |
Coyote was jumping straight up and making passes |
He had those same eyes just like yours |
Under your dark glasses |
Privately probing the public rooms |
And 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 Funday |
From appaloosas and eagles and tides |
And the air conditioned cubicles |
And the carbon ribbon rides |
Are spelling it out so clear |
Either he’s going to 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 |