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bornrunning's Journal

Created on 2008-01-07 00:10:52 (#14615811), never updated

0 comments received, 35 comments posted

Basic Account [Gift]

1 Journal Entry, 2 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 6 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	Eliza Harker

Bio

The screen door slams, Mary's dress waves; like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays Roy Orbison, singing for the lonely - "Hey, that's me and I want you only". Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again. Don't run back inside, darling, you know just what I'm here for. So you're scared and you're thinking that "maybe we ain't that young anymore" - show a little faith, there's magic in the night, you ain't a beauty but, hey, you're alright, and that's alright with me. You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain, make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain - waste your summer praying in vain for a savior to rise from these streets. Well now, I ain't no hero, that's understood; all the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood, with a chance to make it good somehow. Hey, what else can we do now? --Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair, well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere - we got one last chance to make it real, to trade in these wings on some wheels. Climb in back, heaven's waiting on down the tracks. Oh oh, come take my hand, we're riding out tonight to case the promised land. Oh oh oh oh, Thunder Road, lying out there like a killer in the sun - hey, I know it's late, we can make it if we run - Oh oh oh oh, Thunder Road, sit tight, take hold, Thunder Road. --Well, I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk, and my car's out back if you're ready to take that long walk from your front porch to my front seat. The door's open but the ride ain't free, and I know you're lonely for words that I ain't spoken, but tonight we'll be free, all the promises'll be broken. There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away. They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets, they scream your name at night in the street. Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet, and in the lonely cool before dawn you hear their engines rolling on. But when you get to the porch, they're gone on the wind. So, Mary, climb in - it's a town full of losers, I'm pulling out of here to win.

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