It won’t take any loner than fifteen minutes
I was told it won’t take any longer than twenty minutes
Gold rush (in my lungs) – it’s a bitter pill to swallow
It’s a bitter pill to swallow
Don't let it touch my tongue
It's a crooked pill to swallow
Alright
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 bitter 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, in my lungs, don’t let it touch my tongue
Gold rush, in my lungs, don’t let it touch my tongue
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
