It won’t take any loner than fifteen minutes / I was told it won’t take any longer than twenty minutes. God rush (in my lungs) – it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Don't let it touch my tongue. It's a crooked pill to swallow. Have you been that way? Have you seen your physician? My doctor, I pray, keeps her straight position. Gold rush in my lungs, don’t let it touch my tongue. Gold rush , in my lungs, it’s a biter pill to swallow. Don’t let it touch my tongue. It’s a crooked pill to swallow. My arm has gone dry to draw blood; but the needle has got to measure me (or at least it should). Gold rush – gold rush – gold rush – gold rush in my lungs – it’s a bitter pill. It’s a bitter pill to swallow! Don’t let it touch my tongue. It’s a crooked pill. It’s a crooked pill to swallow. It won’t take any longer than twenty-five minutes. It won’t take any longer than forty-seven years.
compositores: God Alone
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