interlude III: Second thoughts

The truth is... The kid's medicine made him sin Whether it's from a doctor or a dealer Screaming about Juanita He put his record on until he's bleeding on the needle And he's weeping in the street Cut down on his curtain call, that's where he's gonna sleep To gain what these hands he once possessed A dozen roses on the pavement, laid to rest Oh, my dear Sister Christie, will I feel some remorse? She says, "No, pull the trigger 'Cause he's left us no recourse His brain has a sickness, so kill it at the source"