Sammy And Me

The street lights were red
through the mist of the window,
as the passing cars hissed
through the rain on the floor.
And the stills in his mind
were the taste of peculiar,
of the bar and the chin
of his bulldog-faced boss.
For if he tries enough...
he can remember.

Sammy and me,
and the law of the gun.
He never cared about nobody except his mum.
The freedom he found
in the games that we played.
He never thought about the end of the plans he made.
He looks at people with his two eyes rolling round.

The fashions were dark
in the shade of the palace,
and the windows were yellow
like a sodium beam.
The rain was like soft clay
and the smells of the morning,
from the mirror-ball ballroom
splintered glass newly fell.
For if he tries enough...
he can remember.

Sammy and me,
and the law of the gun.
He never cared about nobody except his mum.
The freedom he found
in the games that we played.
He never thought about the end of the plans he made.
He looks at people with his two eyes rolling round.

And he remembers in the hotel by the park, the
green and orange beds and every outline in the dark. And
even in formica he has feelings for the past. He
tries to overcome the sense of losing that he has.

As the stink of the velvet
hit his face like a gerbil,
every hope and illusion
fell away from the scene.
And the bulldog ex-sailor
didn't see Sammy dripping
As he crumpled down weeping
at the edge of the bar.
For if he tries enough...
he can remember.

Sammy and me,
and the law of the gun.
He never cared about nobody except his mum.
The freedom he found
in the games that we played.
He never thought about the end of the plans he made.
He looks at people with his two eyes rolling round.