The Lost Diary Of D. B. Cooper

They call me D.B. Cooper, that wasn’t my real name Back in nineteen seventy one, I commandeered a plane Got some parachutes and money, Two Hundred Thousand Bucks And I jumped into the rain, when the plane was high enough

Thought I’d freeze as I was falling, but I made it to the ground I landed on a haystack, miles away from any town Set my parachute on fire, there was lightning all around Walked along a raging river, slept inside a cave I found

And I laid low in the forest Catching fish to stay alive There were helicopters searching As the days and weeks went by, for D.B. Cooper ….. D.B. Cooper …..

Hitched a freight train down to Fresno, with a backpack full of cash Bought an old car from a wino, there were no questions asked Drove it all across the country, Nixon was the president Saw my sketch in every paper, and on every T.V. set

Grew my hair and wore a go-tee, and I got a fake I.D. My new name Frederick Kurland, With a phony law degree Got an office in Saint Louis, many clients came to me Somehow I had the knack, to make a jury set them free

And I met a dark eyed woman So soulful and so kind We raised four precious children, one Did a school report one time on D.B. Cooper … D.B. Cooper

One FBI informer, he pursued me thirty years Lookin’ for that big reward, they hung around my ears On a beach in Martha’s Vineyard, my daughter saw a man With a black pair of binoculars, who watched me from a van

I gathered up my family, Carly Simon said hello And went to Logan Airport, for a trip to Mexico One bright September morning, I remember that day well He was on the eighty seventh floor when the World Trade towers fell

That tragedy hurt me so bad I lost a few good friends, but That FBI informer he Won’t follow me again D.B. Cooper …. D.B. Cooper

Now the decades have passed quickly, I’m a Grandpa with a cane People still write books about that day I leaped off of that plane That two Hundred Thousand Dollars, isn’t that much to repay Every banker out on Wall Street, they steal that every day

People still comb through the Northwest, hoping that they’ll find my bones By the money in a satchel and they’ll never tell a soul When I’m lying on my deathbed, and I’ve got a week or two I’m gonna fly out of Seattle and jump without a chute

The cash I got away with I invested in Bill Gates No child on earth will ever starve From the Billions that I made, from D.B. Cooper .. D.B. Cooper .. D.B. Cooper .. D.B. Cooper