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 ?stop- But he failed and taught her young the only thing she's 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 And she's searching through the stations for an unfamiliar song And she's pictures all the places where she knows she still belongs ?stop- And she smiles the secret smile because 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 _______________________________________________________ Contribuição: Lúcio Manzi Portella([email protected])
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