This is some years back in a place far away
where her story starts,
let's say Eastern Wyoming.
This waitress and part-time singer
was waiting dishes on the rack.
She would work every day with no clear idea
of just where she was going or what kind of
life she might be creating.
She saw her friends get married and watched
them while they carried those babies that
cried.
So she packed a quick bag and she left without a goodbye.
She ran, she ran,
past the stoplight that never stopped blinking.
She ran,
she ran,
and she didn't waste time overthinking.
She knew what folks would say,
that she'd always be the girl who ran away.
One boy knew the score when she stopped for
a while in a brand new land called Western
Ohio.
She lived in a room just three floors above him.
He was six foot four when he kissed her,
he'd smile,
and she'd close her eyes while she
tried not to cry so he'd never guess
just how much she might love him.
She said, I know your history,
but loving you's this mystery I long to decode.
Then one day when he knocked, she was fifty
miles down the road.
She ran,
she ran,
cause that life felt like such a disaster.
She ran,
she ran,
and the harder she thought,
she ran faster.
She'd miss him every day,
but she'd always been the girl who ran away.
She couldn't stop looking ahead.
She knew once she did, she'd be better off dead.
Now those days are gone, that seems so long ago.
She's forty-ninth with a view of the river.
Some days she is sad without knowing why.
So she keeps moving on,
but she still doesn't know what she's
looking for or what life has to give her.
Yesterday there he was from Ohio.
She stopped and stared,
cause his smile has the power to
slow her.
The way he cared,
and how deeply he still seems to know her.
She's wasting life