Among the possessions of an outlaw of a low class kind
|
Is this little bottle of French perfume
|
Taken as a last thought from a drug store in suburbia
|
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you"
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She said, "Jesse, I don't hardly even know you anymore
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And judging from your grin, you'd think you held up Henry Ford
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And I don't believe I want you a comin' 'round here anymore" (ooh)
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Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there, and he slammed the door
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And he wandered through the alleyways
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Thinkin' all the while that she'd be proud of what he stole for her,
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And he tried to think of better ways
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Dreamin' of a movie that he'd seen one afternoon,
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He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun
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And he ran right home and stood before his mirror
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Acting like a thug (ooh)
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He waited for a dark night; he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in,
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As a rich man, he came walkin' by,
|
"Hold your hands up high," he cried, "I've come to make your fortune mine"
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But his eyes, they gave him right away,
|
Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay
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And Jesse asked the man if he'd please leave him in his pain
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And the man tried to forgive him, but there's not much he could say (ooh)
|
Among the possessions of an outlaw of a low class kind
|
Is this little bottle of French perfume
|
Taken as a last thought from a drugstore in suburbia
|
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you"
|
"Ah, take it, ah, please take it; I'm tired and I'm poor
|
And this crappy French perfume is nothin' less than my own soul
|
I was feelin' half a man; I wanted to feel whole" (ooh)
|
(Oooh...ooh,ooh)
|
|
-----------------
|
The Outlaw
|
| Dan Fogelberg |
