(Doctor Davis, telephone please...Doctor Davis, telephone please) I'd catapult downtown To see the galleries And my favorite fiancee In a lavender gown
But I'm hooked up to a machine It performs my daily functions Through a tube in my wien
And today that thing malfunctioned Like a forest fire It burnt a hole in me and I perspired
So there ain't gonna be a wedding No love affair No art to which none compares
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