Coyote — текст песни (Joni Mitchell)





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 brood mares 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 of 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 fat 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



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