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…