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

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): ROY LONEY