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