We don't talk all that much these days.
In fact, we don't talk at all.
But I'll never forget
When we were kids
And our secret dream,
To run away together.

The dream grew brighter
When it turned into a plan.
We had our bags packed and ready to go.
A pair of jeans and a sweater,
My guitar so we could busk,
One **** dress in case times got hard,
And the money
Your mother hid in her dresser.
We'd take the train,
Get the hell out of here,
And never look back.
We said I'd cut my hair,
So they would never find us.

We never quite knew
What we were running away to be.
Rockstars, hookers,
Crackheads, or movie stars.
We didn't care.
We were young and wanted an out,
And the city
Was calling our names.

We never did run away.
I guess I knew all along
That we never would.
But I don't regret any of it.
Any of the planning,
Any of the dreaming.
Because that dream,
That hope of an out,
The idea of there being an escape
No doubt kept me going.

I still think about you often,
And our run away dream.
We were dreamers alright.
Or maybe we just hated this town.
Maybe we were just young.
Maybe we read too many books
And watched too many movies.
Or maybe it all goes back
To that same song.
The one where he stands outside
Her bedroom window
And begs her to come outside.
"Come outside,"
He'd say,
"Come outside.
Out the window,
Down the fire escape,
And run away with me."