Kicked him out of Hollywood Tried to take it like man He'd go down to Mexico It's where he always ran Warren sitting shotgun For the long and dusty ride They set off together It was the perfect place to hide Took off when the moon came up With a quart of Johnny Walker Stopped in Encinata to get some presents for his daughter Pat Garret on the eight track, bloody murder in their eyes Another hundred miles of drinking scotch and telling lies Watch your mouth when you talk in this town There's always someone there to make you pay After twenty five years of kicking ass and taking names He never got to do things my own way Cocaine on a switchblade that he got from Jason Robards Left him back in Hollywood with all them other blowhards It's a short fall from the top, till you hit the long slow death Sam would always break before he bent He came up for air, he felt old and out of breath In the dusty darkness he could feel the end. Look me in the eyes you dumb son-of-a-bitch What kind of man do you think I am When you get back to town and you're looking for a job Don't tell 'em you were friends with bloody Sam Don't tell 'em you were friends with bloody Sam Don't tell 'em you were friends with bloody Sam