Artist: Paint It Black
Song: The Pharmacist

The medicine cabinet's empty, there's nothing for my head.
Inside I'm made of concrete, my eyelids feel like lead.
I'm feeling for a pulse, but it's no use.
My head was screwed on tight now it's coming loose.
And I've been to the bottom of a bottle or two;
that shit just kept me down. 
I'm sick of short cuts leave me on the ground.

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