- Song Name: Painkillers
- Artist Name: Everlast
- Album: Whitey Ford Sings the Blues
- Songwriters: Erik Schordy, Sebastian Barden
- Release Date: 1998.09.08
- Label: Tommy Boy
LYRICS FOR "Painkillers"
On behalf of Pan Am Airlines
To welcome you to New York City
We'd like to thank you for flying Pan Am
The local time is 6:45 a
I've been up all night on the redeye flight
The dawn's early light
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
I say
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 s*** right here
I've been tokin' on this since thirteen years old
And when I look up at my wall
And there ain't nobody sneezin' at the money I fold
And I ain't here for your pleasin'
Just keep your mouth shut and get me to the hotel
And turn the radio up while I finish this L
Welcome back to the Five Seasons Mr
Your usual room is ready and waiting
Let me take your luggage
If you need anything while you're staying just let me know
Good lookin' out
That's for you
Everybody's on the floor
The s***'s in progress
I wanna silently to God how did I get in this mess?
They tell me to freeze and get down on my knees
Between my jewels and my cash
They told me to run it
And like Slick Rick said
'Cause now they standin' over me
Damn
There's a pain in my chest but yo
Because before I faded out
The paramedics
They killin' my pain
Tryin' to keep me in the conscious world
I'm thinkin' about my mom
I'm prayin' to God don't let this go too far
As they rush me into the St
They pull the bullets out my chest and give 'em back in a jar
Now
Mr
What are you talkin' about?
It would appear that one of the bullets grazed your spine
And damaged the cord
So what are you tryin' to tell me?
Well
Yo
Trapped in a wheelchair
There ain't no rehab
For the rest of my life somebody's gotta take care of me
And people stare at me with pity in their eyes
And every mornin' I rise to a life of despise
And every night I think
'Cause my brain's f***** up on percacet and vicadin
Might as well be heroin pulsin' through my veins
Gotta kill these pains or blow out my brains
To free me from these chains
I'm trapped in this physical hell
To walk again
And I'm only twenty somethin' years old
© WB MUSIC CORP.