(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