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 'til the end
 (Soma) Just get a script
 (Someone) Needs medicine
 (Silenced) Up 'til 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...