Better men have died for less, rats get fat no matter where youve been And San Antones a catacomb where Sirens speak the tongue of broken men They say your body is a credit card, sell your ass theyre sure to get you well And if they offer tainted points, just bleach the ends, add a crack upon your belt And it wasnt all too long ago, crying out in a hospital gown With a bandage torn off from the chest and an oath to stick the landing coming down The boarding house was an easy out, but it dont help when the noise begins to tower And every second is a minute and every minute is another endless hour Swing low, sweet northern wind to guide my weary bones Dont let them bury me in San Antone Dont you bury me in San Antone Pacing an apartment, gifted clothes hang tattered, torn, and loose How deeply green the grass must be as it calls beyond the window of a noose And now cowardice is baring teeth, a fit of shakes in wait before the sight To only kill a part of me, the cost that buys some shelter for the night Now morning comes with vengeance, taunted by the light now growing wild Bathing in the warmth she brings, a kick to shut down weeping like a child Begin the false bought clarity, the summoned strength to labor through the fight Just to thumb a stolen wallet and to stumble towards another endless night Swing low, mother misery let the shackles go The gift of ease before I die alone And I know Ill die alone Better men have died for less, but the rats get fat no matter where youve been
san, rat, men, antone, fat