(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