Testo di Eight-Ball, Coroner's Pocket

Fictional physician I get a large euphoria from such a small formula, yeah, yeah A little paper on the side will be my ticket to ride, yeah, yeah Heavy feeling, refill my way to the sky Happy feeling, replacing doubt in my mind Doctor's orders: Take some more; I'm hearing knocks at the door Meddling family, go home; I feel much less than before So what? (because it) Now what? (is an axe) Meddling family stay away Meddling family go, go, go Doctor, your patients are here Hey, across the counter You'll quiet down as I slowly get louder Cancer, coma, panic, pills; it just doesn't matter I swallow blackouts Formula helping us formulate I still picture all of what happened the day I got locked in my head (Soma) (Soma) just get a script (Someone) needs medicine (Silenced) up till the end (Soma) just get a script (Someone) needs medicine (Silenced) up till the end (So long) And I'm losing my patients I'm losing my patients I'm losing my patients I'm losing my, I'm losing my Now I've lost all my patience I've lost all my patience I've lost all my patience I'm losing my, I'm losing my