| OK, OK
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| Yeah
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| We live tonight
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| Check it, now
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| I seen pain, I felt the losses
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| Attended funerals and seen coffins
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| 21 years old, an angel was lost here
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| Wings clipped by the grip of 80 milligram sniffs of oxycontin
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| Everyday through the nostrils
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| Never went away, never does it stop there
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| Death a line or two away and a couple tall cans
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| Cause you never know when God is gonna call, man
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| Precious, what we all share
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| I said peace at 5:30, the next time that I saw him was in the hands of the
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| pallbearer
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| What if I would’ve never gone and dropped him off there?
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| Blaming myself, in hysterics, screaming «It's not fair!»
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| 21 years old with a book of rhymes he was gonna recite to the globe
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| Only thing to numb the pain besides that shit in his nose
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| He was gonna quit tomorrow, we’re all gonna quit tomorrow
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| Just get us through the weekend, and then Monday follows
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| Then it’s Wednesday, then it’s «fuck it, I’m already feeling hollow»
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| Might as well go crack a seal and might as well go chug a bottle
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| Might as well go pop a pill and go and band-aid that problem
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| And escape this world, vacate this world
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| Cause I hate myself
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| No praying’s gonna cure this pain
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| Doctor, please, give me a dose of the American Dream
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| Put down the pen and look in my eyes
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| We’re in the waiting room and something ain’t right
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| All this is on you, we’re over-prescribed
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| For me and Kev
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| He went up in jail, institutions are dead
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| And with our lives, we play Russian Roulette
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| And try to find a life where we could be content
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| Cause for us, we’re just trying to minimize the fear of being alive
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| And now my little brother is in the sky
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| From a pill that a doctor prescribed
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| That a drug-dealing billion dollar industry supplied
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| And the cops never go and profile at night
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| Yeah, the, the, the orange plastic with the white top they sell to you
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| Has us looking for the answers and that instead of you
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| Quick fix, whatever’ll do
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| We just gonna neglect the truth
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| Because a doctor with a license played God and said it’s cool
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| Played God and said it’s cool
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| But me? |
| I don’t blame Kev or his mom freebasing while pregnant with him
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| I blame the pharmacy companies
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| And country that spends trillions fighting a war they supplying themselves
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| Politicians and business and jail
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| Public defenders and judges who fail
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| Look at Kevin, look at Kevin
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| Now he’s wrapped in plastic
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| First dealer was his mom’s medicine cabinet
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| Got anxiety, better go and give him a Xanax
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| Focus, give him Adderall, sleep, give him Ambien
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| 'Til he’s walking 'round the city looking like a mannequin
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| Ups and downs, shooting up prescriptions you’re handing him
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| So America, is it really worth it? |
| I’m asking you
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| Doctor, please, give me a dose of the American Dream
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| Put down the pen and look in my eyes
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| We’re in the waiting room and something ain’t right
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| All this is on you, we’re over-prescribed
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| Doctor, your medicine and your methods
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| Can’t cure my disease without killing me
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| You’re killing me, you’re killing me
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| You’re killing me, you’re killing me
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| Doctor, your medicine and your methods
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| Can’t cure my disease without killing me
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| You’re killing me, you’re killing me
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| You’re killing me, you’re killing me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kevin, artist - Macklemore. Album song This Unruly Mess I've Made, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп