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Callin It Your Job (Don't Make It Right)

from Words, Words, Words by Sam Steffen

/

lyrics

The D.A.’s on the front porch / with the landlord behind him
Eviction notice / has been nailed to the door
Their knocking and pounding / disrupts someone calling:
“With what can I bargain when I am so poor?”

They go in and come out / dragging a person
Old man in a bathrobe / half-naked and crine
D.A. says “I’m sorry” / but he says it smiling—
“Each man’s got his labor / and don’t I got mine?”

You can call it your labor to ease your conscience
Call it your duty if it’ll help you sleep tight
Call it your career if you can’t tell the difference
But callin it your job, boss—won’t make it right

The warden’s a bastard / he’s a stickler for details
Heaven have mercy / when he makes his patrol
If he finds so much as / a sheet that’s been wrinkled
You can bet that you’ll all spend / a night in the hole

He says that he loves us / there’s no need to fear him
He’d prefer we reserve all / our fear for his God
But I fear whoever / does evil so easily
And thinks that he’s only / doing a job

Chorus

The police have shown up / in outrageous numbers
Armed in their helmets / with their nightsticks and shields
The protesters marching / are righteously singing
“we haven’t come this far / to turn back or yield”

They bring out a firehose / and turn it upon us
Transforming the marchers / into some kind of mob
Who is it you officers / swore to defend and protect?
When you put on your uniform / and made this your job?
chorus

The army recruiters / are down on the corner
They’re telling young kids bout / the splendors of war
They’re showing their medals / and telling their stories
I’d just like to ask them / what they’re fighting for

Some fight cause they have to / cause they’re under fire
Cause they’re being bullied / and they don’t get a say
But some think it’s their duty / some think it’s the right thing
To blindly take orders / and collect your pay (the American Way)
Chorus

The judge in his tower / is looking down meanly
He’s raising his gavel / and drawing his breath
He announces the sentence / he does it routinely
“You’ve been proven guilty / and your penalty’s death”

He won’t say he’s sorry / he hasn’t got pity
“Whatever you done, now, that’s between you and God,”
When he arrives home, the judge will sleep soundly
Assuring himself he’s just doing his job

chorus

credits

from Words, Words, Words, released September 29, 2018

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Sam Steffen Boise, Idaho

Sam Steffen is a Pennsylvania-bred, Boise-based singer-songwriter whose songs are the torch-wood for a new generation of folk music that has learned from the best stuff in the tradition and aims in spite of everything to keep the human spirit alive and kicking. A versatile musician and skilled finger-picker, Sam is at heart a story-teller, and a prolific one. ... more

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