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• Artiste: Miles Kane
• Titre: Slow Death
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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