Tom Waits - Gun Street Girl

Falling James in the Tahoe mud
Stick around to tell us all the tale
Well, he fell in love with a Gun Street girl
And now he's dancing in the Birmingham jail

Dancing in the Birmingham jail

Took a a hundred dollars off of slaughterhouse Joe
Bought a brand new Michigan 20 gauge
He got all liquored up on that road house corn
Blew a 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
And dyed his hair in the bathroom of a Texaco
With a pawnshop radio, quarter past four
He left Waukegan at the slamming of the door

Left Waukegan at the slamming of the door

I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home

Sitting in a sycamore in St. John's Wood
Soaking day old bread in kerosene
Well, he was blue as a robin's egg and brown as a hog
He stayed out of circulation 'till the dogs get tired

Out of circulation 'till 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 bull whipped dog
Telling everyone he saw, "They went thatta way, boss"

Telling everyone he saw, "They went thatta way"

Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof
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

Riding in the shadow by the St. Joe Ridge
And 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 tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaire

Tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaire

I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home

Banging on a 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, ain't never coming home
I said John, John, he's long gone
Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home