From the recording A Boy Named Suicide

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Lay me down on a nice clean sheet. Cut me open just to watch me bleed. Even dentists want to pull my teeth. That’s how they make their money. You can’t save my liver. You can’t save my lungs. You can’t heal my heart ‘cause it’s already gone. Medical bills keep piling up. I’m out of work, shit out of luck. Can this doctor save me just because he has a degree? Will he give me enough Morphine? Can he stop the bleeding when I start hemorrhaging as I go under the knife? The doctor’s office is my new hangout. I drank too much, now I got gout. No longer in pain, but I’m hooked on pills. My insurance pays rich doctor’s bills. The older I grow, the slower I heal. I stay medicated so I don’t have to feel. Now I’m depressed with suicidal thoughts. Losing my mind while my body rots.