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.