One, two, three

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

He took a hundred dollars off of Slaughterhouse Joe
Bought a brand new Michigan 20 gauge
He got all liquored up on that roadhouse corn
Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow Corvette
A hole in the hood of a yellow Corvette

He bought a secondhand Nova from a Cuban Chinese
And dyed his hair in the bathroom of a Texaco
With a pawnshop radio, quartеr past four
He left Waukegan at thе slammin' of the door
He left Waukegan at the slammin' 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

He's sitting in a sycamore in St. John's Wood
Soakin' day-old bread in kerosene
But he was blue as a robin's egg and brown as a hog
Stayin' 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 got up in the morning on a Saturday
Sittin' by the Erie with a bull-whipped dog
Tellin' everyone he saw "They went thatta way, boys"
Tellin' everyone he saw "They went thatta way"

Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof
And the Burlington Northern's pullin' 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
He heard the click clack tappin' of a blind man's cane
And he was pullin' into Baker on a New Year's Eve
With 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 a tree with a skinny millionaire
Tied 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
Bangin' on a table with an old tin cup
Sing I'll never kiss a Gun Street girl again
I'll 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