Dillinger - David Olney

Driving across the Illinois plain

Hard times in '33

John’s got a bottle and he’s feeling no pain

Just the usual low down misery

Hey John don’t you think it’s a crying shame

A man lose a farm and he ain’t to blame

«They're suckers,» says John Dillinger

It’s another bleak November day

Can’t decide to rain or snow

The money’s in the bags and they’re getting away

Heading north to Chicago

Big gray buildings, little gray men

Have a little fun then we’ll do it again

«All right,» says John Dillinger

Luther’s bleeding from a hole in his side

I don’t believe he’ll make it through

Ruby cradles his head and she starts to cry

Oh God, what can I do?

I’ve always been a gangster’s girl

Don’t die and leave me alone in the world

«Shut up,» says John Dillinger

Across his lap a sub-machine

Under his arm a .38

He’s feeling alive, he’s feeling mean

His yellow eyes are filled with hate

The papers say he’s a Robin Hood

Mistreated and misunderstood

«Fuck'em,» says John Dillinger

«All right,» says John Dillinger