ST. MICHAEL'S GENERAL ANAESTHETIC: A POEM скачать в хорошем качестве

ST. MICHAEL'S GENERAL ANAESTHETIC: A POEM

St. Michael's General Anaesthetic It's a lovely feeling, really-- Rolling down the silent corridor Like some numb and lazy pharaoh, Tiny wheels of modern progress Clicking across antiseptic floors, Winding through a labyrinth Of secret passageways, Heading for the Royal Surgeon's Chamber. Suddenly you stop and wait Somewhere inside the very heart Of the pyramid that pain built. You watch the nurses taking five; They're extras from Dr. Zhivago, Isn't that one Natasha Dostoyevksy? And now you're The Idiot Lost in the wrong movie. Your foolishness is acknowledged With a Fool's showercap on your head, Then it's off into the theatre Are the cameras rolling yet? It's c-c-cold in the Green Room (Must be an early Russian winter) You flop onto the narrow table No style in your undressed rehearsal. It's just you and Nurse Karenina Who welcomes you with a smile And an IV up your wrist With the icy Volga flowing through. Then you're wired to a monitor That proves you're still alive; A hot white blanket covers you As you wait for Zhivago to arrive. She shows you all the implements-- Spare parts from the Inquisition; Then Dr. Morpheus comes on stage, A vodka apertif flows up your arm, Now you're at a party Would Nurse Karenina care to dance? I don't feel much like surgery I'm in the mood for some romance. Zhivago arrives dressed in green, I guess the party's over; I was tiring out anyways From dancing with lead feet. I begin to feel like Isaac Stretched out in some green glade Listening with such innocence To my father sharpening the blade.