Among the possessions of an outlaw of a low class kind
Is this little bottle of French perfume
Taken as a last thought from a drugstore in Suburbia
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you"
She said, "Jesse, I don't hardly even know you anymore
And judging from your grin, you'd think you held up Henry Ford
And I don't believe I want you a coming 'round here anymore" 

Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there and he slammed the door
And he wandered through the alleyways
Thinking all the while that she'd be proud of what he stole for her
And he tried to think of better ways
Dreaming of a movie that he'd seen one afternoon
He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun
And he ran right home and stood before his mirror
Acting like a thug 

He waited for a dark night, he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in
As a rich man, he came walking by
"Hold your hands up high," he cried, "I've come to make your fortune mine"
But his eyes, they gave him right away
Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay
And Jesse asked the man if he'd please leave him in his pain
And the man tried to forgive him, but there’s not much he could say 

Among the possessions of an outlaw of a low class kind
Is this little bottle of French perfume
Taken as a last thought from a drugstore in Suburbia
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you"
"Oh, take it, oh, please take it,  I'm tired and I'm poor
And this crappy French perfume is nothing less than my own soul
I was feeling half a man, I wanted to feel whole"