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uncle phil · 12-16-2003, 02:40 PM

Sam Stone
John Prine

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 pictures 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 Sammy took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime

And the gold rolled 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 pictures 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 it's fun,
There was nothing to be done,
But trade his house that he bought on the G.I. 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 pictures have big ears,
Don't stop to count the years,
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios

12-16-2003, 02:40 PM	#64 (permalink)
uncle phil comfortably numb... Super Moderator Location: upstate	Sam Stone John Prine 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 pictures 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 Sammy took to stealing When he got that empty feeling For a hundred dollar habit without overtime And the gold rolled 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 pictures 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 it's fun, There was nothing to be done, But trade his house that he bought on the G.I. 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 pictures have big ears, Don't stop to count the years, Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios __________________ "We were wrong, terribly wrong. (We) should not have tried to fight a guerrilla war with conventional military tactics against a foe willing to absorb enormous casualties...in a country lacking the fundamental political stability necessary to conduct effective military and pacification operations. It could not be done and it was not done." - Robert S. McNamara ----------------------------------------- "We will take our napalm and flame throwers out of the land that scarcely knows the use of matches... We will leave you your small joys and smaller troubles." - Eugene McCarthy in "Vietnam Message" ----------------------------------------- never wrestle with a pig. you both get dirty; the pig likes it.