Texty: Yaz. Best Of Yaz. Tuesday.

Woman of thirty, seeing the sun
Packed up her suitcase, started to run
Looking for someone, looking for none
Pack up and drive away

It was her birthday Tuesday morning
Realization gradually dawning
A man in a grey suit whispered, "I'm calling"
Pack up and drive away

Woman of thirty, husband and kids chained
Like a dog she had to rid
No point in coping, off came the lid
Pack up and drive away

Three thousand miles of honesty dreaming
Perfect imagery is a gleaming
No more shattered clouds were deeming
Pack up and drive away

In her heart it wasn't easy
Mumbled words and feeling dizzy
Reasons fight against excuses
Driving slower she was losing
Dream was stirring only dozing

Eyelids awaken to the daydream
Just an illusion, broken sunshine
Woman of thirty, there's no choice
I can't help our helpless voice