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Runaways

from Personal Journals by Sage Francis

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lyrics

It's time to rethink every fact that is imaginable
Survival instinct dwells in a past that is inhabitable
I happen to pull fast ones over the slow parole board who likes to speak To de-fanged wolves who cry sheep
Time seeps into our skin. Age indicates how long we've been lost in space I keep putting expressionless looks on my face
An awful waste of human skin who waits for Autumn to begin
My fall from grace will do me in. Too late, I'm out of seasoning
No spring chicken summer romance novel writer could win a prize
That’s nobel. Go to hell in a writing vehicle that ain’t winterized
I change my mind more often than my undergarments
About abortion and other nonsense
I'm an orphan who comes from Providence
I am a sign from God. For the parentally misguided and I know
My state is not an ocean, not an island, not a road
If I don't know where I come from how do I know where to go?
It's not where you're from, not where you're at
It's where you’re going. And I am going home
(And I know...)
My state is not an ocean, not an island, not a road
If I don't know where I come from how do I know where to go?
It's not where you're from, not where you're at
It's where you’re going. And I am going home...
To the land of the lost souls
Feeling a loneliness that really only exists in abandoned foster homes
How many images of missing kids can be fit onto a milk carton?
Framed. They're starting to look the same
Starting to say his name and claim privileges as if they found *him*
The strangest little kids surrounding the circle of false friendship
Rings of fire. Arms are connected at the elbow
Cause their tired moms unexpectedly let go
The velcro-like component that keeps their unit cohesive?
It's the music. So we give reasons to get sober. Life experiences to hum to These kids play Red Rover, I look for weaknesses to run through
With reckless abandon. They're standing. Refuse to go down
The pinballs in their machine bounce between abusive homes now
If it’s fight or flight they'll just choose to throw down
Ain't nothing like beating a dead horse, riding it through a ghost town
I move with no sound. I used to think I was invisible
Until they stopped me mid-stride and said, "I think I seen a picture of you..." Picture that. I said, "Nah, I just got one of them faces
Placed next to an expiration date that changes.”

I kind of look familiar. My name is at the tip of your tongue
The lost look on my face makes you play dumb
Say something colloquial. I need to get my bearings
And a feel for where I'm at, but you ain't hearing that.
They shout, “Freeze!” I'm a tourist trapped by townies
Who put bounties out on me in all surrounding counties
Before I bounce I hear them shout, “Can someone help us out, please? We're all alone in the foster home killing ourselves with the house keys.” Not every broken home can come equipped with a fix-it man
And it's a smelly mess once the shit hits the fan
Kids just stand in their circle jerks with their dicks in the sand
Saying "FUCK THE WORLD" because they ain't got no girl. Who do they think I am? Think again. I'm not that quick to plan ahead of time
I'm two steps behind their schedule. They pretend to have read my mind
I think they just misread the lines in the palm of my hand, because
They're random scars caused by slap boxing with landlords
I ran with the dogs until I realized they were all mutts
Turned bitch once the dog catcher caught up
Forced into trucks, boarded up, put to sleep in the pound
Being an orphan sucks but I'm done with sneaking around
I see my frown posted up on street lights and telephone poles
From what they show it seems like I never grow old
From what they show it seems like I never go home
And that doesn't seem right because they won't let me grow
And this is where some go
To avoid the sun rays and the noise of subways
Emerging introverted, unemployed and unshaved
I feel rewarded offering a finder's fee that I know no one will pay And this is where some go
To avoid the sun rays and the noise of subways
Emerging introverted, unemployed and unshaved
I've got multiple personalities and my inner children are runaways

credits

from Personal Journals, released April 16, 2002
Beat by Joe Beats

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