Gonna wind it up on my guitar. Gonna make that silver sing.

I had the radio on, I was driving. Trees flew by, me and Del were singing, Little Runaway, I was flying.

At the end of the day, you're just phonograph records.

I should have known right then it was too good to last, God, it's such a drag when you're livin' in the past

Gonna wind it up on my guitar. Gonna make that silver sing.

You spend your life dreaming, running 'round in a trance, You hang out forever and still miss the dance, And if you get lucky, you might find someone, To help you get over the pain that will come.

I like a good beer. Of course, I'll drink a bad one too. Let no person thirst for lack of real ale! Thank god for long-necked bottles, the angel's remedy.