Friday night
I'm thinking that we just might
Fly away to someplace
They don't know
Who we are

Now I'm riding shotgun in your car
We drive through the city like explorers going sixty-five
Blowing hair flying 'cross your face
We left on Friday; now it's Saturday

Pressed jeans, buttoned up
Jeans ironed, slippin' up
Red shoes, walkin' slow
Headphones blarin' three stacks
Sunglasses flarin' out
Dick watch hangin' low
Studded belt pulled taut
Three stacks on the radio

Friday night
I'm thinking that we just might
Run away to someplace we
We can be who we are
We can be who we are