You better run like hell
You better make your face up on
Your favourite disguise
With your button down lips and your Roller blind eyes
With your empty smile
And your hungry heart
Feel the bite rising from your guilty past
With your nerves in tatters
When the cockleshell shatters
And the hammers batter
Down the door
You better run like hell
You better run all day
And run all night
And keep your dirty feelings
Deep inside. And if you
Take your girlfriend
Out tonight
You better park the car
Well out of sight
'Cos if they catch you in the back seat
Trying to pick her locks
They're gonna send you back to mother
In a cardboard box
You better run
Writer(s): David Jon Gilmour, George Roger Waters
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