(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