Drive-By Truckers - Shit Shots Count lyrics
[Drive-By Truckers - Shit Shots Count lyrics]
Put your cigarette out, get 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 bitch
The boss ain't smart as he'd like to be
But he ain't nearly as dumb as you think
He just wants evolution on a budget
With a schedule to keep
Suburban four lanes move like blood
Through an old man's dying heart
Enough at a time to keep hope alive
At the speed of a stream of tar
He bought in young, and I've no doubt
He's gonna cash out with a winning deal
Trophy tail wives taking boner pill
Rides for the price of a happy meal
Shit shots count if the table's tilted
Just pay the man who levels the floor
Pride's 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 dying
Some is tender and some is tough
Somebody's gotta mop up the A-1
Somebody's gotta mop up the blood
High ground ain't high enough
To kill you quick if you fall
Idealistically speaking
It sounds like you ain't listening at all
Friday night rich is all you're ever gonna be
Until the fight in 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 lost
Don't mix up which is which
They don't pay you enough to work
They don't pay me enough to bitch
The boss ain't smart as he'd like to be
But he ain't nearly as dumb as you think
He just wants evolution on a budget
With a schedule to keep
Suburban four lanes move like blood
Through an old man's dying heart
Enough at a time to keep hope alive
At the speed of a stream of tar
He bought in young, and I've no doubt
He's gonna cash out with a winning deal
Trophy tail wives taking boner pill
Rides for the price of a happy meal
Shit shots count if the table's tilted
Just pay the man who levels the floor
Pride's 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 dying
Some is tender and some is tough
Somebody's gotta mop up the A-1
Somebody's gotta mop up the blood
High ground ain't high enough
To kill you quick if you fall
Idealistically speaking
It sounds like you ain't listening at all
Friday night rich is all you're ever gonna be
Until the fight in 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 lost