Run The Wild Country

Lost in wide country
the sky a line of poetry
map unfolded on my knee
in the prickly pear, in the prickly heat

Cut clean for the dirty ride
the feel of a horse between my thighs
and I thirst for the sound of dry
stones breaking under hoofs that fly

to run the wild country

I swear your ghost rides next to me
over the bleached out bones of the Navajo, the Hopi
and I listen for the past to rattle
with the moon turning big and yellow
and I call myself free

My head to the west, my back to the pain
heal to the steel, hands in the mane
I'm holding onto the asphalt reins
and I won't be letting go again

I'm gonna run the wild country

Ride back