(Lew DeWitt)

That bed that I lay on is narrow and cold
This sickness inside me tears at my soul
And the devil awaits me, he calls me his son
For he knows I'm cornered and too weak to run.

For I soon must return to my gutter of thrills
Where joy is the needle or a bottle of pills
Where a man welcomes misery like an old friend from home
That he uses and abuses till the misery is gone.

--- Instrumental ---

My minds filled with torture my body's in pain
But the needle is warm as it sinks in my vein
Just a matter of seconds then my mind will be free
From the coldness and darkness that dominate me.

But the freedom is short lived and then I'm alone
I must find the pusher but my money's all gone
Then the cycle of horror starts over once more
Oh God, let me suffer this misery no more...