Wild Child

Wild Child

©2008

by:

John McCullough 

I met a wild child on the road,

with a voice as big as a minute

That will stick with me for the rest of my life

In a hundred years or so, 

she’ll be old enough to know me better

But for now she struggles to survive

Runaway what are you running from

What the hell could be so bad

that you would run away from home

Life on the road can be heaven or hell

Certainly not for the fragile and frail

Fly away butterfly, fly home

Or are you running toward tomorrow, 

better times and better days

Or running from the dangers of the life of runaways