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Текст песни Tom Waits - Gun Street Girl

Tom Waits - Gun Street Girl слова песни




Falling James in the Tahoe mudStick around to tell us all the taleHe fell in love with a Gun Street Girl andNow he`s dancing in the Birmingham jailDancing in the Birmingham jail.Took a 100 dollars off a slaughterhouse JoeBrought a bran` new michigan 20 gaugeGot all liquored up on that road house corn,Blew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvetteBlew a hole in the hood of a yellow corvette.Bought a second hand Nova from a Cuban ChineseDyed his hair in the bathroom of a TexacoWith a pawnshop radio, quarter past 4Well ,he left Waukegan at the slammin` of the doorHe left Waukegan at the slammin` of the doorChorus:I said John, John he`s long goneGone to IndianaAin`t never coming homeI said John, John he`s long goneGone to Indiana, ain`t never coming home.Sitting in a sycamore in St. John`s WoodSoakin` day old bread in keroseneHe was blue as a robin`s egg brown as a hogStayin` out of circulation till the dogs get tiredStayin` out of circulation till the dogs get tiredShadow fixed the toilet with an old tromboneHe never got up in the morning on a SaturdaySittin` by the Erie with a bull whipped dogTellin` everyone he sawThey went thatta wayTellin` everyone he sawThey went thatta way.Now the rain`s like gravel on an old tin roofAnd the Burlinton Northern`s pullin` out of the worldWith a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw.And a Gun Street Girl was the cause of it allA Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all.Riding in the shadow by the St. Joe RidgeHe heard the click clack tappin` of a blind man`s canePullin` into Baker on a New Year`s EveWith one eye on the pistol the other on the doorWith one eye on the pistol the other on the door.Miss Charlotte took her satchel down to King Fish RowAnd he smuggled in a bran` new pair of alligator shoes.With her fireman`s raincoat and her long yellow hair, wellThey tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaireThey tired her to a tree with a skinny millionaire.Chorus:I said John, John he`s long goneGone to IndianaAin`t never coming homeI said John, John he`s long goneGone to Indiana, ain`t never coming homeBangin` on a table with an old tin cupSing I`ll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again,I`ll never kiss a Gun Street Girl again.

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