Slow Death

I called the doctor
Up in the morning
I had a fever
It was a warning

She said, "There's nothing I can prescribe
To keep your raunchie bag of bones alive"
I've got some money left for one more shot
She said, "Go kill yourself", I said, "Thanks a lot"

It's a slow, it's a slow
It's a slow, it's a slow death

I called the preacher
Oh, holy holy
I begged forgiveness
And then 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, "Go kill yourself", I said, "Thanks a lot"

I've got 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

Slow death
Slow death
Slow death
Slow death, woo!



Credits
Writer(s): Roy Alan Loney, Cyril Jordan, Cyril Henri Garnick Jordan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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