Sam.

Every morning at breakfast you'd see him arrive.
Had just turned 15,and weighed 135.
Kinda narrow at the shoulders, the same at the hip.
And everybody knew he was full of it.
Big Sam.

This son of Sam was a real cool guy.
He'd wink at girls, they'd start to cry.
Was always good for a joke or two
Everybody called him a walking cartoon.
Sam cool.

Now everybody knew this Sam on sight.
He lived on the colony, a real hutterite.
Black pants, suspenders, a ten gallon hat.
They seen the hat a'walking, they said who dat?
Dat Sam.

One day he tried his at hand at his bro's guitar.
Dogs started howling from near and far.
Babies started moaning and men shook with fear.
And that was the end of his new career.
Poor sam.

Then one night late, probably two am.
He started getting restless and thoughts began.
Maybe gonna try my hand at the rigs one day.
That's when he knew he'd run-away.

And one Sunday morning before the sun came up.
Sam packed his bags and moved on out.
Took off to the rigs, for a job he applied.
T'was easy hiring on for this working hutterite.
This sam.


His first paycheck bought him a pair of blue jeans.
Some booze and smokes and his first big screen.
And all the things that he couldn't have back home.
Nintendo and movies and his own iPhone.

He walked with a swagger cause man o life.
He was finally free, no more hutterite.
Away from the orders and all those rules.
He was his own boss now and man was he cool.

When sunday rolled around he would crack a beer.
Who needs church? Look what I have here.
I can watch some movies or a bit of ball.
Or maybe just sleep, all day long.

"This is the life" he would say to himself.
Should a done this sooner, just look what I have.
My own credit card and a nice set of wheels.
But most of all I can do as I please.

He worked real hard and he loved his pay.
But something was missing at the end of the day.
Something all the good times just couldn't fulfill.
He finally figured out that he'd never fit in.

A lonesome feeling crept into Sam's bones.
And deep inside, his heart was pulling home.
But his stubborn pride was equally as strong.
For to go home now was to admit he had been wrong.

For it all added up to a bunch of wasted years.
Trying to get ahead of the debt around his ears.
And all he had amassed wasn't really worth a lot.
And couldn't give him comfort when his life he tallied up.

For you see back when, when Sam was home.
He worked for the young, the sick and the old.
Working for all, no personal gain.
And all that he did was for his fellow man.

Poor Sam was in a bind, and was being pulled apart.
Pride was on the one side, the other side his heart.
What he'll end up doing at the end of the day.
Is really up to him, we can only hope and pray.
For Sam.