Coyote Hands

[Verse 1]
(A cappella)
Another night with your ghost and this '77 Telecaster,
Another attempt at that crooked Steely Dan part...
(Band enters)
My fingers are field mice, the frets are a trap, Cassandra,
The amplifier hums like a hunting owl in the dark.

[Chorus]
And I still can't make it sound like the record,
Just a cheap imitation, a predator's prayer.
Got these coyote hands, all wrong in the moonlight,
But I ain't putting this damn thing down, I swear.

[Verse 2]
Another string buzzes dead by the fifth fret, just like last October.
Another chord change I miss by a fraction of a second.
The song is a silver fox slipping through roadside cover,
And I'm just a wolf in the yard, pacing and restless.

[Chorus]
And I still can't make it sound like the record,
Just a cheap imitation, a predator's prayer.
Got these coyote hands, all wrong in the moonlight,
But I ain't putting this damn thing down, I swear.

[Bridge]
You said, "It's all in the space between the notes, Fontaine."
But all I hear now is the Ambassador Bridge traffic's cold refrain.

[Chorus]
And I still can't make it sound like the record,
Just a cheap imitation, a predator's prayer.
Got these coyote hands, all wrong in the moonlight,
But I ain't putting this damn thing down, I swear.

[Outro]
No, I ain't putting it down.
Not for you, Cassandra. Not now.