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
Beneath the cantering sky
Run the wild country
To run the wild country
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, call myself free
My head to the west, my back to the pain
Heel 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
Yes, run the wild country
Run the wild country
Oh lost in wide country
The sky a line of poetry
Map unfolded on my knee
In the prickly pear and the prickly heat