Sam I had a dream that you settled down
that you almost stopped
That a less charming man became you
and got famous doing it
Sam tell me it ain't true.
You got the Mississippi writing through you. No other miss should do.
I can still hear a full roar wail
bein' ripped out of your song by the
tendons in your neck and the dead in the air and the shit in the past
And goddammit I swear if you ever stopped
I'd weep and it'd be for history
I'd weep and the Mississippi would weep through me
to reach you and muddy up any clean
part of your real ramblin' being
You're a goddamn bible to the unbeliever
when your arm is hard on the guitar
You're a fuckin' pink sunrise when you
use your eyes to tell a whiskey lived story
And if you Ever abandon those boots too soon
I'll kill the man who done become you
I'll kill the man and know you as the moon.
Sam, don't settle
A less charming man became you
And got famous for it
Dammit it Sam, coulda been you.