Caught up in the backstreets, of a northern english town.
Where he learnt to take the giving, as they raised him to the ground.
Half a brand of fire, with the innocence of a child.
Out of school, with nothing learned.
But the anger of desire.
He's a renegade.
With nowhere to run.
Won't rest until he's done.
God speed your wayward son.
He's a renegade.
It's what he's become.
Another victim of his time, walking the line.
He's a renegade.
Yeah he's a renegade.
On his journey to the wasteside, walking roads he didn't choose.
He was branded by the riteous ones.
Always guilty never proved.
He never sought forgiveness, taking names on (?) cards. 'til the world became the enemy, and the law became the scar.
He's a renegade.
Born of the gun.
Won't rest until he's done, god speed your wayword son.
He's a renegade.
And he's not the only one.
Another victim of his time, walking the line.
He's a renegade.
Yeah he's a renegade.
Oh yeah.
On the eve of his destruction.
When he realised the pain.
That he caused to those who crossed his path.
Would he ever think again? (?) Mamas that walk that beaten track.
Well I've tried it once or twice my friend.
And I'm never going back. 'cause I'm a renegade.
And I know I am from.
Won't rest until I'm done, god speed your wayword son.
I'm a renegade, and I'm not the only one.
I'm no victim of my time, walking the line.
I'm a renegade.
Yeah, I'm a renegade.
I'm a renegade.
Oh yeah.