SUFFERING SAM

He was born on a rickety window-sill
The air was filled with the buzzing of buzzards

He spent his first years working in the fields,
Weened up on cactus milk and
Lizards' gizzards

Stuck going down shit-creek
Without a paddle
Straight down the tubes from the git-go

He killed things when he tried to grow 'em
There was thick cloud of bad luck
That wouldn't let go

CHORUS:
Suffering Sam
Tied to ants out in the sand
Suffering Sam

His lifeline was all tied up
In a knot
People say his genes came from a whirlpool

He was always saying "underground rivers"
were running against him
Word on the street was he was
Born on a bar-stool

CHORUS