Show care for the lonesome Western schoolboy.
Notice how his brow is cruel and true.
He's not going back to California.
The gold is in the ground but he's not digging.
The outlaws of our time are not like Jesse.
Romance dies by sulfur lights, just ask Lefty.
This is not at all a wake-up call.
The gold is in the ground but we're not digging
Oh, the Mother Hips. They've been playing through my mind for a day and half, since I watched the story of that dirty little coward. Are there any jobs in folk-history?
Somehow the Hips and Jesse made me think of a Neil Young song the Hips often play:
Barstool Blues
If I could hold on
to just one thought
For long enough to know
Why my mind is moving so fast
And the conversation is slow.
Burn off all the fog
And let the sun
through to the snow
Let me see your face again
Before I have to go.
I have seen you in the movies
And in those magazines at night
I saw you on the barstool when
You held that glass so tight.
And I saw you in my nightmares
But I'll see you in my dreams
And I might live a thousand years
Before I know what that means.
Once there was a friend of mine
Who died a thousand deaths
His life was filled with parasites
And countless idle threats.
He trusted in a woman
And on her he made his bets
Once there was a friend of mine
Who died a thousand deaths.
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