Rattling down the track on iron wheels,
this is not an exercise, it’s for real.
I’m up here in the rushing wind, way down there.
This town is just a traffic jam,
you can’t walk the streets or breathe the air.
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver,
heading off the rails.
Thundering through the night with the moon in my eyes,
out into the daybreak and the new sunrise.
All I found was loneliness in the crush of the crowd,
but I’m bound for freedom now,
I’ve got power and speed, I’m never slowing down.
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver,
heading off the rails.
I am no ordinary vandal, oh no!
Hanging on to the dead man’s handle
and I’m never going to let go,
never going to let go …
This is not the green train.
I’m pulling this cargo up and over the top.
It’s a loaded son of a gun with the hammer cocked.
Slow-moving son of a bomb, soon it’s going to roll.
It’s too late to evacuate,
it wouldn’t do any good.
Where would you go?
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver.
I’m a runaway train driver,
heading off the rails.
This is not the green train …