Song Cover Image

ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS

Weathered Pine
Dark, gritty chain-gang work song fused with blues, Southern rock and raw punk, around 90 BPM, Build a relentless marching groove from synchronized boot stomps, gear rattles, heavy floor toms, handclaps and labored breathing, Deep rough MALE baritone leads call-and-response with exhausted MALE Marines answering in rhythmic unison, Sparse dirty blues guitar and low bass gradually grow into heavier drums and distorted guitar, Keep the verses hypnotic and repetitive like men surviving a long hump one step at a time, Choruses become huge, catchy work-song chants without sounding cheerful, Brief dropouts expose boots, breathing and spoken jokes, Verse 3 becomes warmer and emotional as Marines carry each other's gear, then returns to the punishing march, Raw, sweaty and darkly funny, No country twang, bluegrass, metalcore or glossy production

[Intro – Marching Boots] LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT... [CALL] Sun ain't up! [MARINES] MOVE YOUR FEET! [CALL] Pack feel light? [MARINES] FUCKING PLEASE! [Verse 1] Started walking in the darkness, Heavy packs and rifles tight, Miles of road stretched out before us As the morning swallowed night. Straps were biting through our shoulders, Boots were pounding out the pace, Sweat was running down our collars, Dust was sticking to our face. Nobody knew the destination, Nobody knew where this shit went, Just Sarge marching there beside us— ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS. [Chorus] ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! Marching miles for government cents! Pack on back and rifle tight, Left foot, right foot, day and night! One more mile! One more bend! One more hill that never ends! Keep those fucking boots in step— ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! [Verse 2] Every hill revealed another, Every turn stretched out the road, Every mile made that fucking ruck Feel twice its goddamn load. Hot spots turned to burning blisters, Shoulder straps had rubbed us raw, Someone swore we're almost finished— Same damn thing we'd heard before. Still the boots kept beating pavement, Still we followed where they went, Still that bastard kept reminding us— ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS. [Chorus] ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! Marching miles for government cents! Pack on back and rifle tight, Been out here since before daylight! One more mile! One more bend! One more hill that never ends! Keep those fucking boots in step— ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! [Verse 3] Then a Devil started fading, Falling farther from the line, Every step a little shorter, Every breath a little behind. So we pulled some weight between us, Split his burden through the team, Someone took his extra ammo, Someone grabbed his MREs. No big speech about the meaning. No one needed to pretend. You just carry what your brother can't— AND KEEP HIM MOVING WITH THE REST. Today I carry some of yours. Tomorrow you might carry mine. That's how everybody makes it TO THE FUCKING FINISH LINE. [Bridge – Chain Gang Cadence] [CALL] How much farther? [MARINES] ONE MORE MILE! [CALL] Said that last time! [MARINES] BEEN A WHILE! [CALL] Feet still working? [MARINES] NOT TOO WELL! [CALL] Keep on moving! [MARINES] FUCKING HELL! LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT... ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! [Verse 4] Sun was sinking through the treeline, Fifteen miles beneath our feet, Then the bivouac came in view— Never looked so fucking sweet. Final hundred felt like twenty, Every step was paid in pain, Till we dropped our packs together AND COULD FINALLY BREATHE AGAIN. Blistered feet and aching shoulders, Dirty, hungry, soaking wet, But we'd made the fucking distance— And the sun was nearly set. Then Gunny pointed toward the treeline, And my stomach fucking dropped: Grab your E-tools, dig positions. GUESS THE FUCKING DAY AIN'T STOPPED. [Final Chorus] ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! Fifteen miles for government cents! Blistered feet and shoulders raw, Still the Core demands some more! One more mile! One more bend! One more job before it ends! Carry yourself and carry friends— ALL THIS AND A PAYCHECK, GENTS! We volunteered! We signed our names! So we've got no one else to blame! Tomorrow they'll line us up again— ALL THIS AND A FUCKING PAYCHECK, GENTS! [Outro – Boots Fade] LEFT... RIGHT... LEFT... RIGHT... All this... And a paycheck... Gents.