And the road it''s getting thinner/dimmer...almost taken from the poem,
i wonder if that song was loosely associated with that story when it was written
????
You've read the story of Jesse James--
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
Of something to read
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.
Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang.
I'm sure you all have read
How they rob and steal
And those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.
There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;
They're not so ruthless as that;
Their nature is raw;
They hate the law--
The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.
They call them cold-blooded killers;
They say they are heartless and mean;
But I say this with pride,
That I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.
But the laws fooled around,
Kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell,
Till he said to me,
"I'll never be free,
So I'll meet a few of them in hell."
The road was so dimly lighted;
There were no highway signs to guide;
But they made up their minds
If all roads were blind,
They wouldn't give up till they died.
The road gets dimmer and dimmer;
Sometimes you can hardly see;
But it's fight, man to man,
And do all you can,
For they know they can never be free.
From heart-break some people have suffered;
From weariness some people have died;
But take it all in all,
Our troubles are small
Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.
If a policeman is killed in Dallas,
And they have no clue or guide;
If they can't find a fiend,
They just wipe their slate clean
And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.
There's two crimes committed in America
Not accredited to the Barrow mob;
They had no hand
In the kidnap demand,
Nor the Kansas City Depot job.
A newsboy once said to his buddy:
"I wish old Clyde would get jumped;
In these awful hard times
We'd make a few dimes
If five or six cops would get bumped."
The police haven't got the report yet,
But Clyde called me up today;
He said, "Don't start any fights--
We aren't working nights--
We're joining the NRA."
From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide,
Where the women are kin,
And the men are men,
And they won't "stool" on Bonnie and Clyde.
If they try to act like citizens
And rent them a nice little flat,
About the third night
They're invited to fight
By a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.
They don't think they're too smart or desperate,
They know that the law always wins;
They've been shot at before,
But they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.
Some day they'll go down together;
They'll bury them side by side;
To few it'll be grief--
To the law a relief--
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.
Who’s car am I driving in?
You picked up a handful
I can''t remember your name?
I always seem to get lost
But I’m always finding trouble
Oh, I''m always finding trouble
And the road it fades away
And the road it''s getting thinner
Get by on my personality
My name?
My name is baby
I''m camera ready, smiling and thrilled
A real a cooperator
Oh, I’m so cooperative
And the road it fades away
And the road it''s getting thinner
And the road it fades away
And the road it''s getting thinner
Ladies clink their glasses
Pretend to run off men
Sending out their signals
Into the night
Timing it right
No one listened to me back home
But your talking partners?
Like jumping in bed !?
The night is swelling off we go
Shoulder to shoulder
Man, you’re pretty deep
And the road it fades away
And the road it''s getting thinner
And the road it fades away
And the road it''s getting thinner
This is my lucky day!
I’m just a pick up stray!
Just a pick up stray!
Just a pick up stray!
Just a pick up stray!
