Lyrics:

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!