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Doctor Davis, telephone please
Doctor Davis, telephone please
I'd catapult downtown to see the galleries
And my favorite fiancée in a lavender gown
But I'm hooked up to a machine
It performs my daily functions through a tube in my ween
And today that thing malfunctioned like a forest fire
It burnt a hole in me, I perspired
So there ain't gonna be no wedding
No love affair, no art to which none compares