To the coyote lying dead on the side of the highway,nI've been through your land countless timesnWithout asking your leavenBut now it seems that I am free to go on my waynWhile you would left there brokennWith only burning father sunnTo grieve and bleach your bonesnAs white as the moonnAs white as the yellow moonnnTo the vulture flying low along the line of the highway,nYou won't have to wait very longnTo eat your filln'Cause the river of grey that divides the horizonnWill surely leave a carcass in its wake,nA twisted golden braid of fur and meatnTurning blacknBlack as the roadnAs black as the grey roadnnAnd the grey road is the great wormnThat meets itself on the far side of the worldnAnd the grey road is the great wormnThat eats its tail beneath our feetnnTo the man selling blankets on the side of the highway,nThe sign says you're friendly and nicenAnd I have no doubt that's truenBut one of these mornings you gonna rise up singing,nA song that your grandfather knewnBut your father forgotnAnd buriednAnd was paved over by the grey roadnThe same road that you walk nownAs nice as a mannAs nice as the last mannnAnd the grey road is the great wormnThat meets itself on the far side of the worldnAnd the grey road is the great wormnThat eats its tail beneath our feet