Intro.: What is it that makes me just a little bit queasy There’s a breeze that makes my breathing not so easy I’ve had my lungs checked out with X rays I’ve smelled the hospital hallways Someday I’ll have a disappearing hair line Someday I’ll wear pajamas in the day time Times when the day is like a play by Sartre When it seems a book burning’s in perfect order I gave the doctor my description I’ve tried to stick to my presciptions chorus Maybe if I could do a play by playback I could change the test results that I will get back I’ve watched the summer evenings pass by I’ve heard the rattle in my bronchi chorus Oh .... oh .... oh After noons will be measured out measured out and measured with coffe spoons and T.S. Eliot