He's got a sharkskin suit and a diamond earring
He's got jet-black hair, just like his mother
He's got a jail tattoo, from his long-lost brother
He's got a shotgun fuse, don't you pull his trigger
Broke from jail without a gun,
public enemy number one
Killed a man on the run
On the lam, without bail
headed straight back to jail
Nowhere else for him to go daddy-o, daddy-o
Nowhere else for him to go daddy-o, daddy-o
He rolls snake-eyes, Jack, he's gonna make his money
He's headin' west, on a killin' spree
Down in L.A., you know the killin's free
(He was born on the 4th of July. The kind of guy, when he spoke to you, he
stared you straight in the eye. You know, man, when he walked into the room,
you would feel it. And man, when he walked in the room, it sounded like this)
He got a hundred years, and the electric chair
His final words were, I don't care
(The way the legend goes, is he was executed shortly after midnight. Some
witnesses say he seemed to be enjoying himself. One witness said he died
with a smile on his face. He was one bad, bad man)
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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