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Until Morale Improves, The Beatings Will Continue
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Murder By Death
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 till 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.