This is Fine
This is Sam
He’s no ma’am.
He drives his Ram
to the tram.

Last name Fine.
He sells wine
through the Carolinas
to line-signers.

He’s a little out of sorts
since all of his reports
regarding imports
are all contorted.

Distorted. Falsified.
Unfaithful. Untrue.
He’s gonna get caught,
is what I’m telling you.

This is Fine.
He sells wine.
This is Fine.
This is Fine.

Fine’s boss gave him lease for his various schemes
but then HIS boss’s boss just don’t give a toss.

So now Sam sees a bus under which he’ll be thrust
for the numbers he’s faked and the books that he’s baked.

The overclass life. The new pool, the hot wife
all earned off the books since no one had looked
at the finances in a series of years
but those glory days are over now, Sam Fine fears.

This is Fine.
He sells wine.
Just in time
for a deadline.

“Get a grip!” Fine tells himself,
putting down the gun.
He’s not ready for that, he stares at the sun.
It’s a beautiful day. His troubles melt away.
He’s got a wife and a kid or two waiting, okay?

So what if he’s going to jail?
Time’ll go down easy like the gun - what the hell?
Of COURSE he never put the safety on: POW!
Poor Sam never had a chance to say, “ow...”

That was Fine
He sold wine.
It was his time.
He crossed the line.
This was Fine
He sold the wine
Until his time
All is fine.

Paul Masson has no stake
in the making of this song
and sponsorship offers will not be accepted
when you try to reach out at jonberger.com.
That’s j-o-n-b-e-r...