| Song | The Outlaw |
| Artist | Dan Fogelberg |
| Album | High Country Snows |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics:Jay Bolotin Music:Jay Bolotin | |
| Among the possesions 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.' | |
| She said, 'Jesse, I don't hardly even know you anymore. | |
| And judging from your grin, you'd think you held up Henry Ford. | |
| And I don't believe I want you a comin’ ‘round here anymore. Ooh.' | |
| Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there, and he slammed the door. | |
| And he wandered through the alleyways. | |
| Thinkin’ all the while that she'd be proud of what he stole for her, | |
| And he tried to think of better ways. | |
| Dreamin’ of a movie that he'd seen one afternoon, | |
| He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun. | |
| And he ran right home and stood before his mirror | |
| Acting like a thug, ooh. | |
| He waited for a dark night; he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in, | |
| As a rich man, he came walkin’ by, | |
| 'Hold your hands up high,' he cried, | |
| 'I've come to make your fortune mine.' | |
| But his eyes, they gave him right away, | |
| Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay. | |
| And Jesse asked the man if he'd please leave him in his pain. | |
| 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. |
| Lyrics: Jay Bolotin Music: Jay Bolotin | |
| Among the possesions 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.' | |
| She said, ' Jesse, I don' t hardly even know you anymore. | |
| And judging from your grin, you' d think you held up Henry Ford. | |
| And I don' t believe I want you a comin' ' round here anymore. Ooh.' | |
| Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there, and he slammed the door. | |
| And he wandered through the alleyways. | |
| Thinkin' all the while that she' d be proud of what he stole for her, | |
| And he tried to think of better ways. | |
| Dreamin' of a movie that he' d seen one afternoon, | |
| He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun. | |
| And he ran right home and stood before his mirror | |
| Acting like a thug, ooh. | |
| He waited for a dark night he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in, | |
| As a rich man, he came walkin' by, | |
| ' Hold your hands up high,' he cried, | |
| ' I' ve come to make your fortune mine.' | |
| But his eyes, they gave him right away, | |
| Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay. | |
| And Jesse asked the man if he' d please leave him in his pain. | |
| 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. |
| Lyrics: Jay Bolotin Music: Jay Bolotin | |
| Among the possesions 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.' | |
| She said, ' Jesse, I don' t hardly even know you anymore. | |
| And judging from your grin, you' d think you held up Henry Ford. | |
| And I don' t believe I want you a comin' ' round here anymore. Ooh.' | |
| Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there, and he slammed the door. | |
| And he wandered through the alleyways. | |
| Thinkin' all the while that she' d be proud of what he stole for her, | |
| And he tried to think of better ways. | |
| Dreamin' of a movie that he' d seen one afternoon, | |
| He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun. | |
| And he ran right home and stood before his mirror | |
| Acting like a thug, ooh. | |
| He waited for a dark night he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in, | |
| As a rich man, he came walkin' by, | |
| ' Hold your hands up high,' he cried, | |
| ' I' ve come to make your fortune mine.' | |
| But his eyes, they gave him right away, | |
| Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay. | |
| And Jesse asked the man if he' d please leave him in his pain. | |
| 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. |