Surgeon

Surgeon I spent the summer on my back Another attack Stay in just to get along Turn off the TV, wade in bed A blue and a red A little something to get along Best, finest surgeon Come cut me open Dressing, undressing for the wall If mother calls She knows well we don't get along I tell the mailman, "Never you mind I'll sift through the piles" And for him to just get along Best, finest surgeon Come cut me open