I called the doctor
In the morning
I had a fever
It was a warning
She said There's nothing I can prescribe
To keep your raunchy bag of bones alive
I got some money left for one more shot
She said God bless you I said Thanks a lot
It's a slow, slow death
I called the preacher
Holy, holy
I begged forgiveness
That's when he told me
He said There's nothing I can prescribe
To keep your raunchy bag of bones alive
I got some money left for one more shot
He said God bless you I said Thanks a lot
Slow Death
I'm set to mainline
A hit of morphine
It's set to mainline
It's like a bad dream
Slow death--eat my mind away
Slow death--turn my guts to clay
It's a slow, slow, slow death