Sam Stone

But life had lost its fun
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years

Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years

Little pitchers have big ears, don't stop to count the years
And the gold rolled through his veins
And the grass grew round his brain
But the morphine eased the pain
And gave him all the confidence he lacked

While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes

But trade his house that he bought on the G. I. Bill
And Sammy took to stealing when he got that empty feeling

Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Sam stone's welcome home, didn't last too long
Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose
Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose
With an overdose hovering in the air

For a flag draped casket on a local heroes' hill
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
With a purple heart and a monkey on his back
And the time that he served, had shattered all his nerves
And there was nothing to be done
Well, he played his last request while the room smelled just like death
Like a thousand railroad trains
And left a little shrapnel in his knee
Climbing walls while sitting in a chair
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose
Sam stone was alone when he popped his last balloon
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios

Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose