She came from oil money
And a mansion made of gold,
She bought her books and backpack
And enrolled.
She declared modern art
And she pledged Delta Chi,
And she threaded the needle
In a Mustang '65.
And I saw her at the counter,
Sellin' Christian Dior,
And I saw her in the stagelights
At the feet of Pussy Galore;
You could say that's nothing special,
Why that's just the girl next door;
But when you're runnin' with Heidi
You know there's always more.

When the feds were closing in,
They took off in the night;
They were three states gone before 
The morning light.
Every phone was tapped, every room was bugged,
There were roadblocks all the way;
And the choppers searched the highways
From Guatemala to L.A.
And I saw her, I'm almost certain,
At a gas pump with her friends,
Suntanned from the highway,
Her dreadlocks in the wind;
Heading for some tomorrow
That she could not even begin,
But when you're runnin' with Heidi
You don't turn back again.

Copyright © Thomas Anderson, Angry Young Grad Student Music