There's a lot of teardrops falling,nThere's a lot of bus stops calling,nTelling me that I could run away.nnBut all I've got is heartache, honey,nAnd all I've got is brown money,nSo I ain't going no place far today.nnBut then againnI've got two feetnAnd although my legsnAin't got much meatnI knownThey'll sure as hell gonWhere I say.nnSo I'll scrap it all on my running shoes,nBypassing those bus-ride blues.nTimes got hard, so I'm running away.nnPetrol fumes in my facenI love that tastenTastes like freedomnnRun run run running awaynRun run running awaynRun run running awaynRun run running awaynRun run running away