Making Plans Turn to Fiction

By the end of the week-
we're packed and ready to leave this God forsaken town.
                                                                  
Escaping through the backdoor.

No clues or trace of us will get left behind.
Marked maps, no money for gas,
we hit the highways.
Accelerate, brake,
going from state to state.
                                  Key in ignition,
                                  What's in store 40 miles from here?
                                  Our destination?
                                  An uncommon break in the lines?
And we're what is called a "Runaway".
I think it's called a "Getaway".
               Matching descriptions of the profiled kids on the milk carton.