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I see searchlights,
see dogs on chains,
heads full of trouble
needing someone to blame
They say where you gonna run to
where you gonna hide this time,
where you gonna run to
where you gonna hide this time

Well I know a safe house
and it's not too far
and there we can lay low
while this blows past,
four stone walls to wait within,
one thick door to crouch behind.
And it's there we can run to
and it's there we can hide this time.

When I was young beneath the table
or up deep in the loft
my brother turned me out
said you've grown too soft ,
you need working on boy
before I call thee mine.
And I don't care where you run to,
I don't care where you hide this time.

And so I head for the black hills,
my back feels full of shot,
an angry mess below my neck
all kindness forgot,
knotted muscles, stutter fuck it,
stretched strained sinew whines.
Where are you gonna run to,
where you gonna hide this time ?

But half a mile from the paddock
I see a horse up in a tree,
a flayed set of legs,
a thing I cannot believe,
but a crow upon a matted mane
and a crow upon a pony's eye.
They both say where you gonna run to
and where you gonna hide this time.

And the cattle here are starving
and they will not feed a child,
they haddle in the red barn
and are frightened of the light,
you'll do good to keep your head down son
they crumble as I stumble by.
And think about where you gonna run to,
think about where you gonna hide this time

And my stitches they are mending
but they're not mending fast,
they buckle in the gray skin
they bite and leave a mark
and they whisper to one another
all along their crooked line,
they say where's he gonna run to
where's he gonna hide this time

Well I got me some answers
but I couldn't be more wrong
and every field I look into
is burnt and scrubbed corn
and every gate is broken
and every fence just sticks and twine
and I don't know where I'll run to
I don't know where I'll hide this time

Well I am running from Sebastian,
I am running from his wife,
I am running from the Blacksmith
who says he saved my life,
I am running from the winter,
the freight train, the lover and the liar
and I am running from the fireman,
the coal man and the colt,
Mrs O the vicar standing on tiptoes
singing her frail lungs away
hallelujah glory be on high,
and I am running from superstition,
from mischief and the law
and her heart that couldn't beat true
and the knocking at the door,
I am running for the running,
the doing, the going and the flight.
And I am running from the cold cave
the blackwater park,
I am running from whatever creeped in
when we left the door ajar,
I am running from tinny sparrows,
paper birds and dogs that bite
I am running from the palace pier
the king's square and the ford,
wilbury and the chapel house
and the ghost of Elin Lord,
the broken bottle the empty chair
the wide crow black sky.
I am running from the sudden storm,
the cold father gone,
the Englishman down in my blood
and the shame and the scorn.
I am running from the good book
the one sure straight line.
That tells me where I can run to
and where I can hide this time.
It tells me where I'm gonna run to
and where I'm gonna hide this time.

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