by KYLA

Sorry Mom, but I’m not comin’
home for dinner.

I’ve had enough of this life,
all I know is pain.

The people in my life make sure
to use God’s name in vain.

It could cost my life runnin’
the streets all day,

but it all happens in the life
of dead Runaway.

I’ve been tormented all my life
I swear it’s true.

If I went to hell, I’d say
to Satan; This is all you got
What else can you do?

So I ran down the railroad
tracks like a track star winner.
And all I have to say it,
Sorry Mom, but I’m not comin’
home for dinner.

And as I lay dyin’ on Sharp rocks,
my memories began to play:

Cause it all happens in the life
of a dead runaway.

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