Well, I went to Dr. Klutz, my surgeon,

I said, “Doctor, my bone ain’t right,

It’s like a rocket hoppin’ out of my pocket,

And I’ve been crying on all floors at night.”

Well, I was drowning off the coast of “Can’t take it,”

And I was having a bad day - jà vu again,

Doctor made some subtle points, highlighting a couple joints,

And I warned him for the first time then –

Don’t cut my femur.

Well he stripped me to a smile and some sunblock,

And he stuck me with a needle in my prime,

As he gave me a phlebotomy near my naval on the top of me,

I begged him for the very second time –

Don’t cut my femur.

Well he injected a shot of “that’s all folks,”

And the IV was drippin’ “lights out.”

The nurses upped my as-pirations,

Satisfying everything but my doubt –

Don’t cut my femur.


Well I awoke one osteotomy later,

Skinnydippin’ in a pool of bloodshed,

When I extended my ball and socket,

I had a new hip bone instead –

He cut my femur!!

Shot a bullet of titanium to my bone,

Doctor heard my bloody scream, said something utterly obscene,

A lot of dumb words on his smart phone,

He’d cut my femur.

With a lug wrench he tightened my you-bolts,

With a vengeance Klutz tightened my nuts,

With my future on the shelf, he cried, “suture self,”

But I was flat on my ifs, ands and butts.

He flippin’ fudged my friggin’ femur.

Well, a knife crime and a lifetime later,

What’s left now knows what’s right from what’s wrong,

I’ve got some bones to pick with my creator,

But for now I’ve got this new hip song,

He cut my femur.      He cut my femur.      

He cut.