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