******* through his teeth
The runner carries on
No arms to love his lover
No hands to play his song
Squinting through his tears
The runner carries on
No heart to love his lover
No head to write his song
No clock move forward
No bag to hold his bones
No blood to fill his veins
No house to call his home
You probably think it's pleasant
To have a mouth filled up with stars
The runner will tell you otherwise
That he's a liar; yes you are
Of course it's very fickle
The pain the runner feels
But every time he loses himself
The demons back off of his heels
So if you ask the runner
Why it is he runs
He'll probably end up telling you
Its always just for fun
Runner, runner, runner
Runner; run, run, run
No arms to love his lover
No hands to hold his gun