| I was mindin' my own business down on Deep Elum Street
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| The sun was comin' up and the birds was singin' sweet
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| When a car come around the corner, long and lean and brown
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| Pulls up to the curb beside me and rolls their window down
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| A man throws me a dollar and I asked him what’s that for
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| A pack of Luckies and a Paper over at the corner store
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| I peer into the window there’s a man and a woman inside
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| Holy Jumpin' Bolts of Lightnin' it’s Miss Bonnie and Mr. Clyde
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| I made a joke about Lucky Strikes that I never should’ve used
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| Their patience was proportional to the shortness of their fuse
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| Bonnie’s pretty little trigger finger was twitchin' by her side
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| And Clyde was cleanin' his fingernails with a foot long Bowie Knife
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| I brung 'em back the Cigarettes and the Dallas Mornin' Sun
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| I told 'em they made the papers front page and column one
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| Ah, we don’t need no smart-assed kid actin' as our guide
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| Now just run along like you never seen, Miss Bonnie and Mr. Clyde
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| Excuse me sir I says to him, but I thought you was a business guy
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| I might have a little proposition that just might catch your eye
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| The biggest haul of Fort Knox Gold they’re a’haulin back tonight
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| And loadin' it up in an Armored Car at the crack of the mornin' light
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| Bonnie grabbed me by the belt loop and pulled me in the car
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| And Clyde held a saw’d-off to my head and lit me a big cigar
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| If you’re on the level then we might just be partners on the side
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| But don’t even think about double crossin' Miss Bonnie and Mr. Clyde
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| Within a week I’d been transformed from a beggar to a wanted man
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| The dreams I’d had of a glamorous life were now, oh so close at hand
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| Bonnie kept makin' eyes at me, it was hard to look away
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| She looked like an innocent country girl who had somehow gone astray
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| Clyde once imagined he was Robin Hood but now his greed was startin' to show
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| Instead of spreading the wealth around he was Wallerin' in the Dough
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| And when he started slappin' Bonnie around something went off in me inside,
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| I said
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| If you keep slappin' Bonnie around, I’m gonna have your hide! |
| Clyde!
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| Clyde would’ve shot me then and there if he wasn’t so sluggin' drunk
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| 'Bout the time he raised his shootin' iron he passed out on his trunk
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| Me and Bonnie made our break, in Clyde’s Caddilac De Ville
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| Bonnie was already on my lap as we flew thru Louisville
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| We got married in Niagra Falls, I got a job as a paper man
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| Within a week the headlines came, showed Clyde on an old divan
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| Shot full of holes, the both of them, which the paper then Identified
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| As the love who led him to his grave, Miss Bonnie and Mr. Clyde
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| We just couldn’t believe we got away with a scheme as big as that
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| We were buying drinks and tossin' scraps to all the dogs and cats
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| We rented us a barrel that night at the Whiskey Still
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| And decided to spend our Honeymoon floatin' down Niagra Hill
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| We made the maddest wettest bumpiest love fallin' down that waterfall
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| Like a crazy pair of desert doves who had never seen rain fall
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| The Police lights were blinkin' at our motel room, outside
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| But We never went back to hear the tale of Miss Bonnie and Mr. Clyde |