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!