THE RUNAWAY
(Dark Version)
Written by: Barry P. Foley
© 06 July 2009
It was a slow Tuesday night, so at two I closed the bar
As I locked the back door, I saw her sitting on the hood of my car
Drinking wine from a paper bag, like she had something to hide
Barely looked up at me, when I offered a ride
When I asked where she was going, she just turned her head
So I drove to an all night diner, for a coffee instead
She started asking little questions, once the coffee came
About where I was from, things I’d done and what was my name
Bridge:
But when the tables turned, she started acting strange
Changing the subject, never revealing her name
I judged her to be 17, but, it’s hard to say
My bartender’s guess, told me she’s a runaway
Then I put it to her straight, where would she sleep tonight
Again she avoided the question, proving my guess was right
Told her sleep on my couch, somewhere warm and safe
Against my better judgment, we left the diner for my place
2nd Bridge
I was awoken around five, cold steel pressed against my head
She was standing over me with the 38 that I kept by my bed
Said I’ve waited 16 years for this chance, as she pulled the hammer back
Thanks for the coffee, you son of a bitch, Goodbye Dad
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Thanks for the coffee, you son of a bitch..Goodbye Dad