No regrets Coyote
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We just come from such different sets of circumstance
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I’m up all night in the studios
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And you’re up early on your ranch
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You’ll be brushing out a brood mare’s tail
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While the sun is ascending
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And I’ll just be getting home with my reel to reel
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There’s no comprehending
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Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes
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And the lips you can get
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And still feel so alone
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And still feel related
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Like stations in some relay
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You’re not a hit and run driver no no
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Racing away
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You just picked up a hitcher
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A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
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We saw a farmhouse burning down
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In the middle of nowhere
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In the middle of the night
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And we rolled right past that tragedy
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Till we pulled into some road house lights
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Where a local band was playing
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Locals were up kicking and shaking on the floor
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And the next thing I know
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That coyote’s at my door
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He pins me in a corner and he won’t take no
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He drags me out on the dance floor
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And we’re dancing close and slow
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Now he’s got a woman at home
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He’s got another woman down the hall
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He seems to want me anyway
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Why’d you have to get so drunk
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And lead me on that way?
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You just picked up a hitcher
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A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
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I looked a coyote right in the face
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On the road to Baljennie near my old home town
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He went running through the whisker wheat
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Chasing some prize down
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And a hawk was playing with him
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Coyote was jumping straight up and making passes
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He had those same eyes just like yours
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Under your dark glasses
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Privately probing the public rooms
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And peeking through keyholes in numbered doors
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Where the players lick their wounds
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And take their temporary lovers
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And their pills and powders to get them through this passion play
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No regrets Coyote
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I just get off up aways
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You just picked up a hitcher
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A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway
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Coyote’s in the coffee shop
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He’s staring a hole in his scrambled eggs
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He picks up my scent on his fingers
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While he’s watching the waitresses' legs
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He’s too far from the Bay of Funday
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From appaloosas and eagles and tides
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And the air conditioned cubicles
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And the carbon ribbon rides
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Are spelling it out so clear
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Either he’s going to have to stand and fight
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Or take off out of here
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I tried to run away myself
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To run away and wrestle with my ego
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And with this flame
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You put here in this Eskimo
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In this hitcher
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In this prisoner
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Of the fine white lines
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Of the white lines on the free free way |