Joni Mitchell - Coyote Lyrics

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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 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 the road

Where in the middle of the night

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.

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.

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I looked a Coyote right in the face

On the road to Baljennie near my old home town.

He went runnin' 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

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 away.

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.

And he picks up my scent on his fingers

While he's watching a waitresses' legs.

He's too far from the Bay of Fundy

From appaloosas and eagles and tides.

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.

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