She was cuter than a speckled pup, just turned 21.

She had a lot of fun playing with my gun.

Just before the sun came up she couldn't take no more.

She came undone crying, crawling for the door.



Well, it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.

And the only friends that's left is them behind that swinging door.

And it's hard to keep your try up when your back is to the floor.

And it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.



The record people nowadays keep spinning keep round and round.

Songs about the backroads that they never held in down.

They go on call it country but that aint the way it sounds.

It's enough to make a renegade wanna terrorize this town.



And it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.

And the only friends that's left is them behind that swinging door.

And it's hard to keep your try up when your back is to the floor.

And it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.



White lightning is the horse I ride pedal to the floor.

He blows fire from his nostrils and he runs like Man-O-War.

Someday we both may wind up in some junkyard on the side.

But until that day you can bet your ass we're gonna wip and ride.



Well it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.

And the only friends that's left is them behind that swinging door.

And it's hard to keep your try up when your back is to the floor.

And it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.

And it's hard to be an outlaw who ain't wanted anymore.