N^Ebo regrets Coyote - w^Ge just come from such different sets of circumst^C5ance I'm up all night in the studio and you're up e^Garly on your ranch Y^Fou'll be brushing out a brood mare's tail while the sun is ascending and I'll just be^C5 getting home with my reel to reel^Eb, there's no comprehending^G How close to the bone and the skin and the e^C5yes and the lips you can get ^G And still feel so alone,^F and still feel related Like stations in some relay, you're not a^C5 hit and run driver no no,^Eb racing away^G C G (x4) You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway

^EbSaw a farmhouse burning down,^G in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the n^C5ight We rolled right past that tragedy, ^G till we turned into some roadhouse lights ^FWhere a local band was playin', locals were up kickin' and shakin' on the fl^C5oor The next thing I know ^Eb- that Coyote's at my door, ^G he pins me in the corner and he won't take "No!" ^C5 He drags me out on the dance floor And we're^G dancin' close and slow, now he's got a w^Foman at home, He's got another woman down the hall and he seems to want me anyw^C5ay Why'd you have to get so drunk and,^Eb lead me on that way G C G (x4) You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway

^EbI looked the Coyote right in the face,^G on the road to Baljennie near my ol^C5d home Town, he went runnin' through the whisker wheat^G, chasin' some prize down ^FAnd a hawk was playin with him, Coyote was jumpin' straight up and makin' pa^C5sses He had those same eyes just like y^Ebours under your dark glasses^G, Privately probing the public rooms, ^C5peeking through keyholes in numbered doors ^GWhere the players lick their wounds and take their t^Femporary lovers And their pills and powders to get them through this passion^C5 play No regrets Coyote,^Eb I just get off up aways, G C G (x4) You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway

C^Eboyote's in the coffee shop, ^Gstaring a hole in his scrambled eggs He^C5 picks up my scent on his fingers while he’s ^Gwatching the waitresses legs He's t^Foo far from the Bay of Fundy, from Appaloosas and eagles and t^C5ides And the air conditioned c^Ebubicles and the carbon ribbon rid^Ges Are spelling it out so clear, e^C5ither he's gonna have to stand and fight ^GOr take off out of here, I tr^Fied to run away myself, to run away and wrestle With my ^C5ego and with this f^Eblame, you ^Gput here in this Eskimo, in this hitcher In this prisoner, of the fine white lines, of the white lines on the C G C G Eb G C G (x4) C Free, free, way