Remember Genie, from the casino
She's still a-waiting in her big brass bed
The boys from your gang are knocking whisky back
'Til they get out of hand
And wish they were dead
They're only lonely for the life they led
With their old friend
Ooh, James are you selling your soul to a cold gun?
Selling your soul to a, ooh,
James are you selling your soul to a cold gun?
Where lies your heart?
It's not there in the buckskin baby
It's not there in the gin that makes you laugh long and loud
You're a coward James
You're running away from humanity
You're running out on reality
It won't be funny when they
Rat-a-tat-tat you down
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