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