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Slow Death

de Miles Kane

I called the doctor in the morning
I had a fever, it was a warning
She said: There's nothing that I can prescribe
To keep your raunchy bag of bones alive
I got the money for one more shot
She said: God bless you, I said: Thank you a lot

I called the preacher, holy, holy
Begged for forgiveness, that's what he told me
He said: There's nothing that I can prescribe
To keep your raunchy bag of bones alive
I've got the money for one more shot
He said: God bless you: I said: Thank you a lot

Slow death, eat my mind away
Slow death, turn my guts to clay
It's a slow, it's a slow, it's a slow
It's a slow death

Sets to the mainline, a hit of morphine
Sets to the mainline, it's like a bad dream
They said: There's nothing that I can prescribe
To keep your raunchy bag of bones alive
I've got the money for one more shot, shot
She said: God bless you, I said: Thank you a lot

Slow death, eat my mind away
Slow death, turn my guts to clay
Slow death, keep my mind away
Slow death, turn my guts to clay
It's a slow, it's a slow, it's a slow
It's a slow death

It's a slow death
It's a slow death
It's a slow death

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