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 a slaughterhouse Joe Brought a brand new Michigan twenty-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 for Waukegan at the slamming of the door Left for 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
He's 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'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 bull-whipped dog Telling everyone he saw, "They went that-a-way, boys" Telling everyone he saw, "They went that-a-way"
Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof And 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 ridge Hearing the click-clack tapping of a blind man's cane He was pulling into Baker on a New Year's Eve One eye on a pistol and the other on the door One eye on a 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 They 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
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, ain't never coming home I said John, John, he's long gone Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home
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Copy to Clipboard: 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 a slaughterhouse Joe Brought a brand new Michigan twenty-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 for Waukegan at the slamming of the door Left for 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
He's 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'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 bull-whipped dog Telling everyone he saw, "They went that-a-way, boys" Telling everyone he saw, "They went that-a-way"
Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof And 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 ridge Hearing the click-clack tapping of a blind man's cane He was pulling into Baker on a New Year's Eve One eye on a pistol and the other on the door One eye on a 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 They 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
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, ain't never coming home I said John, John, he's long gone Gone to Indiana, ain't never coming home
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