The craven beast mounts the crimson rocket
Like Slim Pickens minus the power socket
Lighting a fuse, becoming a space monkey
The onlookers call him a mental flunkey
Because he fails like a Swiss timepiece
Or like the government in modern Greece
But he presses on with the stone up the hill
Our modern Sisyphus driven by sheer will
Despite the flawed plans and fatal contraptions
It’s likely the longest running fatal attraction
Of course, he could have boiled a dumb rabbit
Not much ingenuity and he would have had it
But he is a workhorse that will not quit
Even though he’s mired in the deepest s**t
He may never catch the Roadrunner for what it’s worth
But he’s been the Coyote ever since his day of birth
He’s not the modern hero, but the perpetual underdog
Rooting for him, and you’re sinking yourself into a bog
A bog of depletion, a bog of depression, a bog of despair
Because life isn’t exactly the existence that truly cares
And every day, we fight against it and dig in our heels
Because life won’t freely hand us our wants and meals
And the Coyote in our unclaimed and unseen symbol
Because life cares about us, the size of a small thimble
So if you want to press forth and have that matter to you
Tell yourself to Be The Coyote and bid the despair adieu!