One of the Best

Well, my papa owned the saw mill in our home town.
When I was born, I was the picture of my mom.
I was the kid who gave the speech at graduation,
and I married the queen of our school senior prom.

They voted for the most popular kid in high school;
when the votes were counted, my name led the rest,
and the baseball scout who signed me to a contract
told my daddy I was bound to be one of the best.

I played shortstop in the bushes and they called me Slick
'cause I was such a hot shot fielder, don't you see.
They said I was a sure bet for the big leagues
till one day I tore the ligaments in my knee.

Now I'm out here on the bum in Kansas City,
hitchin' trucks out on the highway headed west.
I ain't had a shave since 'bout last Sunday,
and nobody knows I mighta been one of the best.

Oh, I worked down in the saw mill for a short time,
when my daddy died in debt, the mill closed down.
When I took to drink, nobody else would hire me,
so I finally packed my bags and just left town.

I drifted on from job to job all over
'till my give up on me like all the rest.
Nobody wants a thirty-four year old has-been,
not even one they thought would be one of the best.

I been busted time to time in several cities,
and it's tough to find a place to hang my hat.
They say we're in the heart of a recession,
but I can tell you all it's worse than that.

This awful winter wind just cuts right through me.
The Lord has really put me to the test.
I hope that when I get to California
someone will have a job for one of the best.