(Intro) (Heavy, galloping drum cadence kicks in. Overdriven slide guitar wails over a fast, crunchy Telecaster rhythm. Sound of distant thunder and boots slamming down on gravel.) (Spoken snarled baritone) Listen up, rookie. You keep staring at the dirt, you're gonna end up under it. Eyes up! (Verse 1) I see your hands shaking underneath that steel Whining 'bout the blister and the way you feel Talking 'bout the cold and how you haven't slept in days Boy, the enemy don't care about your mama’s gentle ways! You’re sitting in the trench while the red dirt flies Looking for a miracle falling from the skies Drop the sorry pity and remember why you’re here Ain’t no room for comfort and there ain’t no room for fear! (Pre-Chorus) Lock your rifle in, tighten up your vest! You can whine about your aches when you're laid to rest! Get your finger on the trigger, put your boots in the clay— 'Cause I ain’t hauling home a body bag today! (Chorus) Forget about sleep, forget about pain! Forget about the blisters and the cold black rain! You wanna make it home, you gotta do your damn job— Stop looking like a target in an angry mob! Snap out of the daze, get your head in the pit— Toughen up, you little shit, you’re pissing me off! (Verse 2) You think you’re special 'cause your uniform is torn? I was dodging incoming before your ass was born! Pain is just a visitor that’s trying to stay too long Bleeding only matters if it stops you being strong! So what, your back is aching? So what, your throat is dry? The man beside you counts on you to keep an open eye! You freeze behind that wall, and you’re gonna get us dead— So swallow down that panic and start using your head! (Pre-Chorus) Lock your rifle in, tighten up your vest! You can whine about your aches when you're laid to rest! Get your finger on the trigger, put your boots in the clay— 'Cause I ain’t hauling home a body bag today! (Chorus) Forget about sleep, forget about pain! Forget about the blisters and the cold black rain! You wanna make it home, you gotta do your damn job— Stop looking like a target in an angry mob! Snap out of the daze, get your head in the pit— Toughen up, you little shit, you’re pissing me off! (Guitar / Fiddle Solo) (Fast, blistering dual-harmony southern rock guitar duel trading off with a frantic, aggressive fiddle run over a driving double-time drum beat.) (Bridge) (Halftime breakdown, heavy stomping kick drum and low, menacing bass groove. Close-miked, raspy growl) I don't ride you hard because I like to hear my voice... When the fire starts to fall, survival ain't a choice. I scream until I'm hoarse because I'm dragging you through hell— So when this war is over, you’ve got stories left to tell! (Snarls into the mic) Now load that mag and rack that slide! (Full snare roll explodes back into full double-time!) (Chorus) Forget about sleep, forget about pain! Forget about the blisters and the cold black rain! You wanna make it home, you gotta do your damn job— Stop looking like a target in an angry mob! Snap out of the daze, get your head in the pit— Toughen up, you little shit, you’re pissing me off! (Outro) (Relentless driving rhythm section, screaming guitar bends) Keep your eyes on the line! Watch your sector! Do your job! (Spoken laugh with gritty tube-amp feedback ringing out) Now move! (Huge crashing final chord with a sharp rifle bolt click)
