Gun Street Girl
One two three
Falling James in the Tahoe mudStick around to tell us all a taleWell, he fell in love with a gun street girlNow he's dancing in the Birmingham jailDancing in the Birmingham jail
He took a hundred dollars off a slaughterhouse JoeBought a brand new Michigan twenty gaugeHe got all liquored up on that road house cornBlew the hole in the hood of a yellow CorvetteA hole in the hood of a yellow Corvette
He bought a second hand Nova from a Cuban ChineseDyed his hair in the bathroom of a TexacoWith a pawn shop radio, quarter past fourHe left Waukegan at the slamming of a doorLeft Waukegan at the slamming of a door
Said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana, he never coming homeI said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana, he ain't never coming home
He's sitting in a Sycamore in St. John's woodSoaking day-old bread in keroseneBut he was blue as a robin's egg and brown as a hogHe's staying out of circulation 'til the dogs get tiredOut of circulation 'til the dogs get tired
Shadow fixed the toilet with an old tromboneHe never get up in the morning on a SaturdaySitting by the Erie with a bullwhipped dogTelling everyone he saw "they went that-a-way, boys"Telling everyone he saw "they went that-a-way"
Now the rain like gravel on an old tin roofAt the Burlington Northern pulling out of the worldNow a head full of bourbon and a dream in the strawAnd a gun street girl was the cause of it allA gun street girl was the cause of it all
Well he's riding in the shadow by the St. Joe's ridgeHeard the click-clack tapping of a blind man's caneHe was pulling into Baker on a New Year's EveOne eye on the pistol and the other on the doorOne eye on the pistol and the other on the door
Miss Charlotte took her satchel down to King Fish RowSmuggled in a brand new pair of alligator shoesWith her fireman's raincoat and her long yellow hairWell they tied her to the tree with a skinny millionaireTied her to the tree with a skinny millionaire
I said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana, he never coming homeI said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana, he ain't never coming home
Banging on the table with an old tin cupSing I'll never kiss a gun street girl againNever kiss a gun street girl againI'll never kiss a gun street girl again
I said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana, he never coming homeI said John, John, he's long goneGone to Indiana he ain't never coming home