Gun Street Girl
One two three
Falling James in the Tahoe mud
Stick around to tell us all a tale
Well, he fell in love with a gun street girl
Now he's dancing in the Birmingham jail
Dancing in the Birmingham jail
He took a hundred dollars off a slaughterhouse Joe
Bought a brand new Michigan twenty gauge
He got all liquored up on that road house corn
Blew the hole in the hood of a yellow Corvette
A hole in the hood of a yellow Corvette
He bought a second hand Nova from a Cuban Chinese
Dyed his hair in the bathroom of a Texaco
With a pawn shop radio, quarter past four
He left Waukegan at the slamming of a door
Left Waukegan at the slamming of a door
Said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, he never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, he ain't never coming home
He's sitting in a Sycamore in St. John's wood
Soaking day-old bread in kerosene
But he was blue as a robin's egg and brown as a hog
He's staying out of circulation 'til the dogs get tired
Out of circulation 'til the dogs get tired
Shadow fixed the toilet with an old trombone
He never get up in the morning on a Saturday
Sitting by the Erie with a bullwhipped dog
Telling 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 roof
At the Burlington Northern pulling out of the world
Now a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw
And a gun street girl was the cause of it all
A gun street girl was the cause of it all
Well he's riding in the shadow by the St. Joe's ridge
Heard the click-clack tapping of a blind man's cane
He was pulling into Baker on a New Year's Eve
One eye on the pistol and the other on the door
One eye on the pistol and the other on the door
Miss Charlotte took her satchel down to King Fish Row
Smuggled in a brand new pair of alligator shoes
With her fireman's raincoat and her long yellow hair
Well they tied her to the tree with a skinny millionaire
Tied her to the tree with a skinny millionaire
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, he never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, he ain't never coming home
Banging on the table with an old tin cup
Sing I'll never kiss a gun street girl again
Never kiss a gun street girl again
I'll never kiss a gun street girl again
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, he never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana he ain't never coming home
