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'd belong
But he failed and taught her young
The only thing she'd need to carry on
He taught her how to

Run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So 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
And 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 thinkin' 'bout the places
Where she knows she still belongs
She smiles the secret smile
That shows she knows exactly how to carry on

So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
From their 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

And she's searching through the stations
For an unfamiliar song
And she pictures all the places
Where she knows she still belongs
And she smiles the secret smile
Because she knows exactly how to carry on

So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run
So run, baby, run, baby, run
Baby, run, baby, run

Copyright: Downtown Music Publishing, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Bill Bottrell, David Francis Baerwald, Sheryl Suzanne Crow