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Lady Godiva, dressed so demurely, |
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Pats the head of another curly-haired boy, |
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Just another toy. |
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Sick with silence, she weeps sincerely, |
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Saying words that have oh so clearly been said |
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So long ago. |
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Draperies wrapped gently around her shoulder, |
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Life has made her that much bolder now |
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That she (has) found out how. |
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Dressed in silk, latin lace and envy, |
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Pride and joy of the latest penny-fare, |
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Pretty passing care. |
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Hair today now dipped in the water, |
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Making love to every poor daughter's son, |
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Isn't it fun? |
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Now today, propping grace with envy, |
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Lady Godiva peers to see if anyone's there |
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And hasn't a care. |
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"Doctor is coming," the nurse thinks SWEETLY, |
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Turning on the machines that NEATLY PUMP AIR. |
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The body lies bare. |
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Shaved and hairless, what once was SCREAMING, |
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Now lies silent and ALMOST SLEEPING. |
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The rain must have gone away. |
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STRAPPED SECURELY TO THE WHITE TABLE, |
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ETHER CAUSES THE BODY TO WITHER AND WRITHE, |
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Underneath the white light. |
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THE DOCTOR ARRIVES WITH A KNIFE AND BAGGAGE |
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SEES THE GROWTH, JUST SO MUCH CABBAGE |
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That must now be cut away. |
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NOW COMES THE MOMENT OF GREAT, GREAT DECISION. |
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THE DOCTOR IS MAKING HIS FIRST INCISION. |
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One goes here, |
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AND ONE GOES THERE. |
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"The ether tube's leaking," says someone who's sloppy. |
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THE PATIENT, IT SEEMS, IS NOT SO WELL SLEEPING. |
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The screams echo off the walls. |
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Don't panic -- someone give him pentathol instantly. |
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The doctor removes his blade cagily slow from the brain. |
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BY MY COUNT OF TEN. |
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THE HEAD WON'T MOVE! |
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N.B. |
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Normal text is sung by John Cale; |
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UPPER-CASE TEXT IS SUNG/SPOKEN/SHOUTED BY LOU REED. |
