Sam Stone came home To his wife and family After serving in the conflict overseas And the time that he served Had shattered all his nerves And left a little shrapnel in his knee
But the morphine eased the pain And the grass grew round his brain And gave him all the confidence he lacked With a purple heart and a monkey on his back
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose Little pitchers have big ears Don't stop to count the years Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Sam Stone's welcome home Didn't last too long He went to work when he'd spent his last dime And Sam, he took to stealing When he got that empty feeling For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
And the gold roared through his veins Like a thousand railroad trains And eased his mind in the hours that he chose While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose Little pitchers have big ears Don't stop to count the years Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Sam Stone was alone When he popped his last balloon Climbing walls while sitting in a chair Well, he played his last request While the room smelled just like death With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun There was nothing to be done But trade his house that he bought on the GI bill For a flag-draped casket on a local hero's hill
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose Little pitchers have big ears Don't stop to count the years Sweet songs never last too long on broken radiosTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
