run, baby, run

she was born in november 1963

the day aldous huxley died

and her mama believed

that every man could be free

so her mama got high

high

high

and her daddy marched on birmingham

singing mighty protest songs

and he pictured all the places

where he knew that she belonged

but he failed and taught her young

the only thing she'd need to carry on

he taught her how to

run baby run baby run baby run

baby run

past the arms of the familiar

and their talk of better days

to the comfort of the strangers

slipping out before they say

so long

baby loves to run

she counts out all her money

in the taxi on the way to meet her plane

stares hopeful out the window

at the workers fighting

through the pouring rain

she's searching through the stations

for an unfamiliar song

and she's thinking 'bout the places

that she knows she still belongs

she smiles the secret smile

that's sure she knows exactly how

to carry on

so run baby run baby run baby run

baby run

from the old familiar faces and

their old familiar ways

to the comfort of the strangers

slipping out before they say

so long

baby loves to run