Well it didn’t matter, Tommy Jackson was running free
Cause the man he killed never mattered much to me
There’s talk in our town, about where Tommy might run
Wondered if it mattered, that he’d used my gun
80 miles east of the line, down on my granddaddy’s farm
He laid low just for the night, slept there in our barn
I watched him steal our Ford and drive away in the sun
18 years of getting older, now a dead man on the run
CHORUS:
Isn’t love a funny thing, with a pistol in your hand
Close your eyes, and bow your head, pray if you can
Well you sealed your fate when you picked up that shotgun
18 years of getting older, now a dead man on the run
15 days he kept his conscience between the line
His ex-wife and a cold jail cell were always on his mind
Ran out of money at an east-bound truckstop
He found work there in Fritz’s muffler shop
Lyrics
Fritz was a good man, and Pamela was his wife
2 kids, a nice home and on the surface a nice life
Drunk on whiskey, Pam and Tommy had some fun
18 years of getting older, now a dead man on the run
CHORUS
On the run
Every Sunday morning, she goes down to the place where he lays
Tells Tommy how she never wanted things this way
Rest in peace Tommy Jackson, 1981
18 years of getting older, now a dead man on the run
CHORUS
18 years of getting older, now a dead man on the run
On the run
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