Rats Get Fat (GemsOnVHS Field Recording)

Better men have died for less

Rats get fat no matter where you've been

And San Antone's a catacomb where sirens speak the tongue of broken men

They say your body is a credit card

Sell your ass they're sure to get you well

And if they offer tainted points, bleach the ends, add a crack upon your belt

And it wasn't 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

Oh, the boarding house was an easy out

But it don't 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

Don't let them bury me in San Antone

Don't you bury me in San Antone

Now pacing an apartment

Gifted clothes hang tattered, torn, and loose

How deeply green the grass must be

As it crawls beyond the window of a noose

And now cowardice is baring teeth, a fit of shakes in wait before the sight

So I'll only kill a part of me

The cost to buy some shelter for the night

And now morning comes with vengeance

Taunted by the light growing wild

Bathing in the warmth she brings

A kick to shut down weeping like a child

So 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 I'll die alone

Better men have died for less,

But the rats get fat no matter where you've been