Until Morale Improves, The Beating Will Continue

I walked the road from Tucson to San Antonio
with the smell of blood on my breath
ninety days of sweat and dirt feels like one night
when you've got nothing left

til' there's nothing left to do but die
buckshot is my bread and I'll drink whiskey instead of water
cause I can't stand to be sober in this place
your hands on my face
every step of the way
tryin' to peel away the pain

I'll drink whiskey instead of water.