| Sam was lyin' in the jungle
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| Agent orange spread across the sky like marmalade
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| Hendrix played on some foreign jukebox
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| They were praying to be saved
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| Those gooks were fierce and fearless
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| That’s the price you pay when you invade
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| Xmas in February
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| Sam lost his arm in some border town
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| His fingers are mixed with someone’s crop
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| If he didn’t have that opium to smoke
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| The pain would never ever stop
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| Half his friends are stuffed into black body bags
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| With their names printed at the top
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| Xmas in February
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| Sammy was a short order cook in a Short order black and blue collar town
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| Everybody worked the steel mill but
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| The steel mill got closed down
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| He thought if he joined the Army
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| He’d have a future that was sound
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| Like no Xmas in February
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| Sam’s staring at the Vietnam Wall
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| It’s been a while now that he’s home
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| His wife and kid have left, he’s unemployed
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| He’s a reminder of the war that wasn’t won
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| He’s the guy on the street with the sign that reads
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| «Please help send this Vet home»
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| But he is home
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| And there’s no Xmas in February
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| No matter how much he saves |