Sam Is Gone

Sam Is Gone

A rough demo of a song about the murder of Sam Cooke. 

A rough demo of a song about the murder of Sam Cooke. 

I guess the birds are singing                                         

In the telephone wires                                     

I guess the bells are ringing                                     

From the clapboard spires                                    

I guess the kitchen is open                                    

And the radio is on                                                      

And the radio is saying:                                     

Sam is gone                                                      

I don't know much about heaven, sir

Or any life to come

I don't know what gets forgiven in this world

And what goes round and round and round

I don't know much about many things

And some of them are wrong

But if you're telling me anything

Don't tell me Sam is gone.

 

Not Guilty, the jury said                                     

Not Guilty, the press                                                      

He's just the usual black man                                    

With the usual hole in his chest                   

But I hear the people singing                                      

Sing him to rest                                                      

 

They're singing Cupid, You Send Me

Singing Bring it on Home

Twisting the Night Away

And A Change is Gonna Come

They're singing Farewell My Darling

That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On

And What a Wonderful World This Could Be

And it could be, but Sam is gone

 

Not guilty the management

Not guilty the press

He's just the usual black man in this place

With the usual hole in his chest

But I hear the people singing

Sing him to rest

 

I guess the birds are sleeping now

I guess the bells are done

I guess the clouds in the Illinois sky

Have thrown a blanket around the moon

And the old ones who have seen it all

Tell the young ones life goes on

But it won't be the same

And it won't feel the same

And it won't sound the same

Now Sam is gone.

I guess the birds are singing                                         

In the telephone wires                                     

I guess the bells are ringing                                     

From the clapboard spires                                    

I guess the kitchen is open                                    

And the radio is on                                                      

And the radio is saying:                                     

Sam is gone                                                      

I don't know much about heaven, sir

Or any life to come

I don't know what gets forgiven in this world

And what goes round and round and round

I don't know much about many things

And some of them are wrong

But if you're telling me anything

Don't tell me Sam is gone.

 

Not Guilty, the jury said                                     

Not Guilty, the press                                                      

He's just the usual black man                                    

With the usual hole in his chest                   

But I hear the people singing                                      

Sing him to rest                                                      

 

They're singing Cupid, You Send Me

Singing Bring it on Home

Twisting the Night Away

And A Change is Gonna Come

They're singing Farewell My Darling

That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On

And What a Wonderful World This Could Be

And it could be, but Sam is gone

 

Not guilty the management

Not guilty the press

He's just the usual black man in this place

With the usual hole in his chest

But I hear the people singing

Sing him to rest

 

I guess the birds are sleeping now

I guess the bells are done

I guess the clouds in the Illinois sky

Have thrown a blanket around the moon

And the old ones who have seen it all

Tell the young ones life goes on

But it won't be the same

And it won't feel the same

And it won't sound the same

Now Sam is gone.

© 2017 by Kevin McGee. Created with Wix.com

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