**** Shots Count

Put your cigarette out and put your hat back on

Don't mix up which is which

They don't pay you enough to work

They don't pay me enough to b**ch

The boss aint as smart as he'd like to be

But he aint nearly as dumb as you think

He just wants evolution on budget with the schedule you keep

Swervin' four lanes movin' like blood through an old man's dyin' heart

Nothing but time to keep hope alive through the speed of a string guitar

He bought in young and I have no doubt he's gonna cash out with a winning deal

Trophy tailed wife's takin' boner pill rides for the price of a happy meal

Sh*t shots count

If the table's tilted just pay the man who levels the floor

Pride is what you charge a proud man for having

Shame is what you sell to a whore

Meat's just meat and it's all born dyin'

Some is tender and some is tough

Somebody's gotta mop up and eat one

Somebody's gotta mop up the blood

High ground aint high enough to kill you quick it's the fall

Idealistically speaking it sounds like you aint listenin' at all

Friday night britches are you ever be there til the fighting you on Monday's gone

One more drag

Tuck your hair in your hat

Don't act so surprised and try not to look so long

Sh*t shots count

If the table's tilted just pay the man who levels the floor

Pride is what you charge a proud man for having

Shame is what you sell to a whore

Meat's just meat and it's all born dyin'

Some is tender and some is tough

Somebody's gotta mop up and eat one

Somebody's gotta mop up the blood