Just sixteen, a pickup truck,
Out of money, out of luck.
I've got nowhere to call my own,
Hit the gas, and here I go.
Out of money, out of luck.
I've got nowhere to call my own,
Hit the gas, and here I go.
Chorus:
I'm running free yeah, I'm running free.
I'm running free yeah, Oh I'm running free.
Spent the night in an L. A. jail,
And listened to the sirens wail.
They ain't got a thing on me,
I'm running wild, I'm running free.
Chorus
Puller here at the Bottle Top,
Whiskey, dancing, disco hop.
Now all the boys are after me,
And that's the way it's gonna be.
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