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(Larry Boone / Gene Nelson / Paul Nelson) |
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He's got a U.S. flag on his front porch |
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To remind everyone where he lives |
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And up in the attic there are papers that prove |
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The old house is finally his. |
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After thirty-five years the grass still don't grow |
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In that rock hard west Texas ground |
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Where my old dad still clings to that old coyote town. |
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Chorus: |
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Like horses the pick-ups are parked out in front |
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Of a cafe that don't need a name |
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Where the old men rock and the tumbleweeds roll |
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Past the boarded up windows down Main. |
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Waist high weeds hide a for sale sign |
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At the drive-in where my innocence died |
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With a rusty advertisement, dangling by a nail |
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Says Popcorn and Pepsi for a dime. |
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And down at the depot where I left for good |
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There's a hobo with his three-legged hound |
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Waitin' for a train, that no longer comes |
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To that old coyote town. |
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And the interstate rumbles like a river that runs |
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To a rythm that don't ever slow down |
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As cars and trucks, and time pass by |
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That old coyote town. |
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Daddy falls asleep in the living room |
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On the sofa with the TV on |
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Sometimes he waits for a phone call from me |
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Sometimes he waits too long |
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But I still think of the people and the place that he loves |
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How much longer will they be around |
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Till its ashes to ashes, dust to dust |
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For that old coyote town. |
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Chorus: |
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Like horses the pick-ups are parked out in front |
|
Of a cafe that don't need a name |
|
Where the old men rock and the tumbleweeds roll |
|
Past the boarded up windows down Main. |
|
And the interstate rumbles like a river that runs |
|
To a rythm that don't ever slow down |
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As cars and trucks, and time pass by |
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That old coyote town. |
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God bless that old coyote town... |
