on a cold october morning
as frost lay on the ground
waiting to make my move
i made no sound
waiting for the mist to cover all around
i carefully picked my time then took the wall
i'm sick and tired of running
the hunger and the pain
a stop to look about then off again
being at the wrong place
and at the wrong time
suspected of a hit that was my crime
i am a fugitive being hunted down like game
i am a fugitive but i've got to clear my name
always looking 'round me
forever looking back
i'll always be a target for attack
every morning onwards
always on the run
waiting for a sight of a loaded gun
even if i find them
and get to clear my name
i know that things can never be the same
but if i ever prove
my innocence some day
i've got to get them all to make them pay