Sam Stone came home
To the wife and family
After serving in the conflict overseas
And the time that he served
Had shattered all his nerves
And left a little shrapnel in his knees
But the morhpine eased the pain
And the grass grew 'round his brain
And gave him all the confidence he lacked
With a purple heart and a monkey on his back
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Sam Stone's welcome home didn't last too long
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And soon he took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
And the gold roared through his veins
Like a thousand railroad trains
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose
While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Sam Stone was alone when he popped his last balloon
Climbing walls while sitting in a chair
Well, he played his last request
While the room smelled just like death
With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun
There was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the G.I. bill
For a flag-draped casket on a local hero's hill
There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don't stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
Writer(s): John Prine
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