Aches and complaints, you name ’em, I’ve got ’em,
Sicker of everything I’ve never been.
Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom,
And disappear from all radar screens.

A friend poured me drinks, though I kept refusing;
He kept repeating, "This, too, shall pass."
He hooked me up with one of his floozies -
"She’ll help you, just like the booze in your glass."

But neither helped me feel any less rotten:
It made my head hurt, she made a scene.
Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom,
And disappear from all radar screens.

Aches and complaints, you name ’em, I’ve got ’em,
Now, even singing sharpens my pain...
Wish I could sink, like a sub, to the bottom,
And send out signals never again.