Texty: Phish. A Picture Of Nectar. Catapult.

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 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