Running Up That Hill
Urgent, aching, driven — yearning set to a machine-like pulse
Video: Kate Bush - Topic on YouTube
Lyrics
It doesn't hurt me
Do you wanna feel how it feels?
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making?
You
It's you and me
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
Be running up that road
Be running up that hill
Be running up that building
Say if I only could, oh
You don't wanna hurt me
But see how deep the bullet lies
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder
Oh, there is thunder in our hearts
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Oh, tell me we both matter don't we?
You
It's you and me
It's you and me won't be unhappy
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
Be running up that road
Be running up that hill
Be running up that building
Say if I only could
You
It's you and me
It's you and me won't be unhappy
C'mon baby, c'mon darlin'
Let me steal this moment from you now
Come on angel, c'mon, c'mon darling
Let's exchange the experience, oh
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
I'd be running up that road
Be running up that hill
With no problem
Say if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
Be running up that road, be running up that hill
With no problem
Say if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
I'd be running up that road
Be running up that hill
With no problem
Say if I only could
Be running up that hill
With no problem
If I only could, I'd be running out that hill
If I only could, I'd be running out that hill
Lyrics via LRCLIB (community-contributed). Rights remain with the songwriters and publishers.
The analysis
A song about two lovers who keep wounding each other without meaning to, and the narrator's fantasy of a supernatural fix: a bargain with God to trade bodies and viewpoints with her partner, so each could finally feel what the other feels. The chorus turns that wish into an image of uphill running, effort with no reward, while the verses stay stuck in the small, cutting misunderstandings of intimacy. The music is propulsive and pounding rather than tender, which makes the whole thing feel less like a plea and more like a physical struggle.
empathy as an impossible exchange the violence hidden inside love gendered misunderstanding bargaining with the divine futile effort
Who's speaking
A first-person lover addressing the beloved directly. She sounds honest but not entirely reliable about herself: she opens by insisting she isn't hurt, then immediately describes a wound, so her denial is part of what the song is about.
What happens
It begins with a refusal of pain and a set of questions aimed at the partner — do you want to know how this actually feels, do you want to hear the bargain I'm considering. From there she names the trouble: he doesn't intend to hurt her, but the damage is deep, and she is doing something equally destructive to him without realising. The middle widens into a general question about why we save so much cruelty for the people closest to us, and a small, frightened plea that the relationship matters. The bridge shifts register into coaxing endearments, asking to borrow a moment of his life and trade experiences. The final stretch abandons argument and simply repeats the wish, adding the phrase about doing it without difficulty — the hill would be easy if only the swap were granted. The last lines slip from running up to running out, a small mutation that reads as either escape or exhaustion.
How it's built
Verse–refrain built on a repeating, almost circular chorus that resists resolution: the conditional clause never gets fulfilled, it just restarts. The verses are short and interrogative; the two-word interjection about the two of them functions as a hinge, narrowing the whole world to a pair. The bridge is the only place the diction softens into pet names. The last third is nearly all chorus, escalating by repetition rather than by new information, with the added clause about no difficulty acting as the fantasy's payoff and the altered final line as its collapse.
Section by section
Opening verse
Four lines, three of them questions. The speaker's first move is defensive — a claim of invulnerability — but she immediately offers to let the partner test it. The mention of a bargain arrives before we know what the bargain is, which is good suspense: the chorus becomes an answer to a question already asked.
The 'you and me' interjection
A near-wordless narrowing of scope. It functions like a held breath between the verse's questions and the chorus's cosmology, and in its later form it adds a promise about not being unhappy that sounds more like a wish repeated to oneself than a prediction.
Chorus
The bargain is stated plainly: swap places with God's help. Note that she wants to change position, not to be loved better or apologised to — the request is for perspective, not affection. The running images escalate to absurdity, and the chorus ends by circling back to its own conditional, refusing an ending.
Second verse
The song's cruellest observation and its most generous one at once: he wounds her without wanting to, and she is doing the same to him unknowingly. The verse then broadens from this couple to a general question about why intimacy breeds cruelty, before shrinking again to an almost childlike request for reassurance that the two of them count for something.
Bridge
The vocabulary suddenly turns tender and colloquial — baby, darling, angel — but the request underneath is acquisitive: she wants to take a moment out of his life and swap felt experience. Seduction and appropriation in the same breath, which is the song's argument in miniature: understanding another person means, in some sense, displacing them.
Final choruses
Repetition with one addition — the hill would present no difficulty if the swap happened. The fantasy is not just empathy but effortlessness, which quietly admits that the current effort is unbearable. The very last lines alter the preposition so she is running out rather than up, leaving it open whether the deal is granted, abandoned, or simply worn away.
Craft
- extended metaphor
- Uphill running stands for the labour of understanding another person. It escalates from road to hill to building — from difficult to steep to physically impossible — so the metaphor collapses under its own logic even as she keeps repeating it.
- conditional mood as refrain
- The hook is grammatically hypothetical. It never asserts that anything will change; the whole chorus hangs on an unfulfilled 'if', which is why the song can be sung with total conviction and still describe a failure.
- denial as revelation
- Insisting she isn't hurt, then describing a bullet lodged deep, sets the speaker's words against her own testimony. The listener trusts the wound over the disclaimer.
- anaphora
- Stacked questions in the opening and stacked endearments in the bridge both build pressure through repetition, one interrogative and cool, the other coaxing and warm.
- weather imagery
- Thunder in the chest gives the couple's mutual hostility a natural, unwilled quality — a storm rather than a choice, which fits the song's insistence that neither party intends the harm.
Reading it
The most persuasive reading is that this is a song about the limits of empathy inside a relationship, with the body-swap as its literal device: the couple's problem is not lack of love but the impossibility of occupying each other's position, and only divine intervention could fix it. The gender dimension is hard to ignore — a woman asking to trade places with a man, so each would know the other's experience of desire, vulnerability and hurt — and the song's language of bullets, thunder and stolen moments keeps sex and violence adjacent. A credible alternative reads the bargain as sacrificial rather than educational: she wants to take his pain, or his place in some coming harm, and the uphill running is penance. The text supports both; what settles it slightly toward exchange is the bridge's explicit request to trade experience rather than to absorb it.
Context
Released in 1985 as the lead single from Hounds of Love, one of Bush's best-known recordings and built around a distinctive drum-machine pulse and a repeating synthesised figure rather than a conventional band arrangement. Bush has spoken publicly about the song concerning a man and a woman swapping places to understand each other; the title was reportedly altered for release to avoid trouble over the reference to God, with the parenthetical 'A Deal with God' restored later. It found an enormous new audience in 2022 after being used in a television series. I'm confident about the album and the swap-of-places intent; treat the details of the title change as widely reported rather than something I can verify.
Listen for
- How the opening denial of pain is contradicted within a few lines — the song tells you not to trust its narrator early on
- The escalation from road to hill to building in the chorus, and how the fantasy quietly becomes impossible
- The shift in vocabulary at the bridge, where argument gives way to endearments and the request turns acquisitive
- The added claim in the late choruses that the climb would be easy, which reveals how hard the present situation is
- The final change from running up to running out, and what you think it means
About Kate Bush
Catherine Bush is an English singer, songwriter, musician, dancer and record producer. She is noted for her eclectic style, unconventional lyrics and innovative dance performances.
b. 1958 / England
Full biography and catalogue