I hope this letter finds you well. I left you in your sleep tonight, I have to leave this desert hell. 20 years ago I started running, and I’m too far gone - you should have seen this coming. The bottles empty. The jack’s run dry. Constant dust storms cloud my eyes. I’m running out of time again. Truth be told, I need a friend, ‘cause the bats are flyin’ and the dirt is crying for my blood. I’m gonna grab my gun, because the deed is done. So off I go, I’m on the run. You should know I’m never coming home.
The ever present pity’s mounting. Hope’s run out. The alarms are sounding. Church bells ring off in the distance, society questions my resistance. I have to go, `cause my noose is waiting. My future here was bright, but fading. I know that I was in the wrong, but he had it coming all along.
And I’m running out of time again, truth be told, I need a friend. Because the bats are flying’ and the dirt is crying for my blood. I’m gonna grab my gun, because the deed is done. So off I go, I’m on the run. You should know I’m never coming home.
No more shots - my battles’ over. My guns go back into their holsters. Shadows chase me out of town, if I stay here, I’m going down.
I’m running out of time again, truth be told, I need a friend. Because the bats are flying’ and the dirt is crying for my blood. I’m gonna grab my gun, because the deed is done. So off I go, I’m on the run.
supported by 8 fans who also own “Lonely Horror Stories”
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