It's been a long week, I've got a slow leak in my left front tire.
I'm sick of where I work, my boss is such a jerk, don't care if I get fired.
My backs about to break, no money in the bank, and she don't call me anymore.
I'm down to my last ring, it's time to sell my things,
CHORUS:
And pack my bags, and never look back, run a parallel line with the railroad tracks, and make my get away.
I put the pedal to the metal as the sun goes down.
Leave everybody sleepin in this sleepy town tonight, and at the break of day, I'll be a runaway!
A hundred miles in, I got a stupid grin on my scruffy face.
With every cigarette, I'm burning my regr