Copyright Mike Valentine
Runaway
Bangled, beer-buzz jangled, young blonde teen in shredded jeans
She needs something more to free her, but she doesn’t have the means
So she hikes to Umfolozi, crazy monkey on her back
Knowing needles, knowing nothing but the ecstasy of crack
and she won’t be going back
Eighteen wheels, how good it feels
She’s still wet between her thighs
as she straddles her illusions, riding on her lies
And she cries, more in pleasure than in pain
Is she insane?
CHORUS:
Oh, it’s hard to resist her
I’m just glad she ain’t my sister
She’s a wild child whom the devil cannot tame
Like a flower in the desert
she just takes the heat ‘n’ wears it
While shiftin’ gear, but never shiftin’ blame
Golden chances flashing by, she doesn’t care, she’s flying high
He’s paying her attention, though it’s hardly worth a mention
No words, no cares, no G-string
while he plays her like a fiddle
She’s a free thing
The trailer ‘n’ trash she’s left behind her
heading for where they’ll never find her
And when he lets her go she won’t even know
how it came, it’s just a game
And before the desert blooms
there’ll be many motel rooms that know her name
They’re all the same
CHORUS
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