Billy's Band - Gunstreet Girl lyrics

Однажды ночью я спустился в бар гостиницы, купил бутылку виски в коричневой картонной упаковке, сидя на корточках прислонившись к барной стойке влил в себя эту очередную порцию отравляющей радости, подумал, что это было в последний раз, поднялся наверх, покричал в унитаз и написал новый блюз. Он назывался - Завтрак в тюрьме. На самом деле это был танец, хотя и необычный. Да, и вот ещё что - все мужики, все, кто сидел там внизу, все, с кем я разговаривал, все они там из-за женщины... 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 Now 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 Now we's sitting in a sycamore in St. John's wood Soaking day-old bread in kerosene 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" 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 Now the rain's like gravel on an old tin roof And the Burlington Northern pulling out of the world With the 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 Sitting in the table with an old tin cup Sing I'll never kiss the gun street girl again Never kiss the gun street girl again I'll never kiss the gun street girl again I'll never kiss the gun street girl again Oh, John, John... Oh, John, John... Oh, John, John... John, John... John, John...