painkillers Songtext - Everlast

Flight Attendant: On behalf of Pan Am Airlines, we'd like to be the
first to
welcome you to New York City.
We'd like to thank you for flying Pan Am.
The local time is 6:45 a.m. and the
temperature is 89°.
I've been up all nightOn the redeye flight
The dawn's early light
Got the skyline bright
I'm in the back of a car service
My driver's kind of nervous
'Cause I'm tokin' on a blunt that's fat
You say you know where you at
I say I know where I am
And if you really want a tip then mister don't get flam
I ain't tryin' to be rude and I ain't stressin' you gramps
But this shit right here, it be the breakfast of champs
I've been tokin' on this since thirteen years old
And when I look up at my wall I see platinum and gold
And there ain't nobody sneezin' at the money I fold
And I ain't here for your pleasin', so put that shit on hold
Just keep your mouth shut and get me to the hotel and turn the radio
up
While I finish this L...
Bell Boy: Welcome back to the Five Seasons Mr. Ford, your usual room
is ready
and waiting.
Let me take your luggage. If you need anything while you're staying,
just let
me know.

I'm prayin' to God don't let this go too far
As they rush me into the St. Luke's O.R.
They pull the bullets out my chest and give 'em back in a jar
Now I'm wearin' this scar 'cause I tried to play hard
Doctor: Mr. Ford, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.
Everlast: What are you talkin' about?
Doctor: It would appear that one of the bullets grazed your spine and
damaged
the cord.
Everlast: So what are you tryin' to tell me?
Doctor: Well, it's safe to say I don't think you'll be jumpin' around
anymore.
Yo, this can't happen to me, I just can't believe it
Trapped in a wheelchair, a paraplegic
There ain't no rehab, there ain't no therapy
For the rest of my life somebody's gotta take care of me
And people stare at me with pity in theri eyes
And every mornin' I rise to a life of despise
And ever night I think I might never rock the mic again
'Cause my brain's fucked up on percacet and vicadin
Might as well be heroin pulsin' through my veins
Gotta kill these pains or blow out my brainsTo free me from these
chains
I'm trapped in this physical hellTo walk again I just might sell my
soul
And I'm only twenty somethin' years old (years old)

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