I spent the summer on my back
Another attack
Staying just to get along
Turn off the TV, wade in bed
A blue and a red
A little somethin' to get along
Best find a 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 find a surgeon
Come cut me open