Running Out
Little Johnny's painting in his picture book
Pinning all his hopes on toy balloons
But no one taught him how to sing "Jerusalem" at school
Someone's always dicking with the tunes
It's a beautiful day for the children to play
(Isn't that what this should be?)
It's a beautiful world and you're free as a bird
(Ain't no bad thing to believe)
It's a beautiful game and the rules never change
(Isn't that what it should be?)
Isn't this the garden of Gethsemane?
Isn't this where all the children play?
Little Johnny's painting
Superman
(Butch Walker and Chrystina Lloree)
Make no mistake, I've spent hours and days,
Just to find whose responsible for this mess.
I've walked around for hours, getting' bitten' by the spiders.
And the snakes are crawlin' over my chest.
On the front lawns of America the papers they all read,
Gas prices are rising high and Superman is dead.
As I opened the door and looked at my mother,
Even Stovetop stuffing ain't gonna change my mind.
I'll talk to you tomorrow or maybe next Sunday depending on what I find.
On the front lawns of America the papers they all read,
Your kids are on heroin and Superman is dead.
Maybe it's time I start looking for another.
And pretend a new hero is always going to save the day.
So when I feel like I'm falling off another tall building,
There'll be someone there to catch me faster than a speeding train.
On the front lawn of America the papers they all read,
California is sinking and Superman is dead.
On the front lawns of America the papers they all read,
The psychic network is saving our souls and Superman is dead.
On the front lawns of America the papers they all read,
Your kids are on heroin and Superman is dead.