Post by Mojo on Dec 20, 2009 0:29:53 GMT -5
mojotwanger.wordpress.com/2009/12/20/mojotwanger-the-fresh-start-original-composition/
Sat down tonight and wrote this song. I have no idea who Sammy and Joe are, but I felt like taking their lives and sort of turn them upside down. Not that this is a VH1 Storytellers, or anything, but what the heck…
Here are the lyrics:
Sammy came to town on a Sunday afternoon
The place was as crowded as the face of the moon
He was looking for trouble and a bite to eat
Maybe a little drink, man that can’t be beat
Sammy met Joe at the corner of Smith and 1st
Sittin’ on his front porch, quenching his thirst
He asked him if he’d happen to have a drop to spare
Joe said “Sure, tastes better when you share.”
They polished off that bottle of 12-year old Scotch
Talkin’ about women, bar fights and such
They cursed Johnny Law, they cursed the DC mob
They cursed the China man who stole their job
Sammy told Joe from the corner of his mouth
“Look at that woman coming from the south”
Joe said “she’s my girl, we’re havin’ an affair”
And Sammy said “they taste better when you share”
They both laughed like a couple of hyenas
Like a couple of drunks touring the cantinas
Whiskey came shootin’ out of Sammy’s nose
And what happened after that, nobody knows
They say that Sammy shot Joe straight through the heart
With a nasty pea-shooter he called “the fresh start”.
Then Sammy headed South for the border and freedom
But the Marshalls found him in a brothel called Bedlam
They slapped the cuffs on him and hauled him back to town
Where the judge told him “Boy, I’m gonna put you down.
D’you have something to say before I send you to the chair?”
Sammy said “come with me judge, tastes better when you share”
Ole Sammy fried on a Sunday afternoon
The place was as crowded as the face of the moon
He was lookin’ for trouble and a bite to eat
But the Devil found him, still smokin’ on the hot seat
He grabbed his soul and dragged him to his pit
Where ole Sammy was cooked on a slow roasting spit
He taught him about pain, deep down in his lair
And told him “does it taste better when you share?”
They both laughed like a couple of hyenas
Like a couple of drunks touring the cantinas
Sammy knew then, that is was meant to be
“Hell was always gonna be home for me”
Sat down tonight and wrote this song. I have no idea who Sammy and Joe are, but I felt like taking their lives and sort of turn them upside down. Not that this is a VH1 Storytellers, or anything, but what the heck…
Here are the lyrics:
Sammy came to town on a Sunday afternoon
The place was as crowded as the face of the moon
He was looking for trouble and a bite to eat
Maybe a little drink, man that can’t be beat
Sammy met Joe at the corner of Smith and 1st
Sittin’ on his front porch, quenching his thirst
He asked him if he’d happen to have a drop to spare
Joe said “Sure, tastes better when you share.”
They polished off that bottle of 12-year old Scotch
Talkin’ about women, bar fights and such
They cursed Johnny Law, they cursed the DC mob
They cursed the China man who stole their job
Sammy told Joe from the corner of his mouth
“Look at that woman coming from the south”
Joe said “she’s my girl, we’re havin’ an affair”
And Sammy said “they taste better when you share”
They both laughed like a couple of hyenas
Like a couple of drunks touring the cantinas
Whiskey came shootin’ out of Sammy’s nose
And what happened after that, nobody knows
They say that Sammy shot Joe straight through the heart
With a nasty pea-shooter he called “the fresh start”.
Then Sammy headed South for the border and freedom
But the Marshalls found him in a brothel called Bedlam
They slapped the cuffs on him and hauled him back to town
Where the judge told him “Boy, I’m gonna put you down.
D’you have something to say before I send you to the chair?”
Sammy said “come with me judge, tastes better when you share”
Ole Sammy fried on a Sunday afternoon
The place was as crowded as the face of the moon
He was lookin’ for trouble and a bite to eat
But the Devil found him, still smokin’ on the hot seat
He grabbed his soul and dragged him to his pit
Where ole Sammy was cooked on a slow roasting spit
He taught him about pain, deep down in his lair
And told him “does it taste better when you share?”
They both laughed like a couple of hyenas
Like a couple of drunks touring the cantinas
Sammy knew then, that is was meant to be
“Hell was always gonna be home for me”
