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, just 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
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

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 I'll die alone
Better men have died for less, but the rats get fat no matter where you've been