text: No regrets Coyote
  We just come from such different sets of circumstance
  Im up all night in the studios
  And youre up early on your ranch
  Youll be brushing out a broodmares tail
  While the sun is ascending
  And Ill just be getting home with my reel-to-reel
  Theres 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
  Youre 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 turned 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 coyotes at my door
  He pins me in a corner and he wont take no
  He drags me out on the dance floor
  And were dancing close and slow
  Now hes got a woman at home
  Hes got another woman down the hall
  He seems to want me anyway
  Whyd 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 thru 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 thru keyholes in numbered doors
  Where the players lick their wounds
  And take their temporary lovers
  And their pills and powders to get them thru 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
  Coyotes in the coffee shop
  Hes staring a hole in his scrambled eggs
  He picks up my scent on his fingers
  While hes watching the waitresses legs
  Hes too far from the Bay of Fundy
  From appaloosas and eagles and tides
  And the air conditioned cubicles
  And the carbon ribbon rides
  Are spelling it out so clear
  Either hes 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