Walk, Walk, Run

I walk, walk, run
I can't take another pun.

It's hot outside, and you don't care
I can no longer bare.

You walk, walk, run
You say your hair looks nice in a bun

It's to where you know what you want
And it seems you want to pant.

We walk, walk, run
We together create a ton

It's until the cops caught us
We then started to fuss.

Our reign was over
And it turns out you were undercover.