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I´m gonna pack my suitcase, I´m on the run… ooh-daba daba da…
I´m on the run, three, two, one.

I´m gonna pack my suitcase , I´m on the run,
on the run from having fun,
in nights at the Copa, cause I can`t resist,
shimmering lights shiny boulevards.
I´m gonna send you a postcard from San Jose,
try to call you in Guantanamo Bay.
Terrible heartache, no “buenas noches”,
send you some flowers from Waikiki.
I´m on the run. I´m on the run.

I´m gonna pack my suitcase , I´m on the run,
when something new means no more fun.
Drivin` emotions, I´m restless inside, mama said:
Run but you cannot hide!
Pack my things in one-two-three, not gonna leave a trace of me.
Playing the streetlife seems to be tough,
a night in Tunesia was quite enough.

I´m on the run. I´m on the run.

I´m gonna pack my suitcase , I´m on the run,
when nothing else could be done.
Memories, pain, we´ve been here before,
did what I did, and I closed that door.

Why, tell me why, do we hurt the ones we love?
When I, yes I´m only tryin to get what I need…

I´m on the run. I´m on the run.

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