When I met Olive from Oregon I knew that God had sent her
I had my ass hanging out & a 'Johnny' on, she worked at the Imaging Center
I needed a scan for the Big 'C' man, if you follow what I mean
'Cuz my gastroEnteredYa'rologist was quite concerned by the test results he'd seen
My gastroenterologist was quite concerned by the test results he'd seen
(But Olive from Oregon was more Caring than Concerned, more Helpful than Professional)

She helped me onto the bed of the Machine her hands were warm & her scrubs were clean
She smelled like the country and wholesome things - amber, vanilla, front porch swings
I'll take a CAT Scan every day though it's a thousand times worse than a Chext S-Ray
She brushes against me as she makes her preparations - I really don't mind all the deadly radiation

The news was bad but I didn't blame Olive she did the best she could
So I went for a drink at the Langosta Lounge I figured it would do me good
I met a girl named February said she had sisters named April, May & June
She drank sloe gin, had a lazy eye I said “I think I got cancer” - I was drinking Blue Moons
She said “you're a decent dancer … we're all gonna die … and we're all gonna be dead soon”
February could be depressing.
And I said “I got a lot more I'd like to do before I die … write a book, make a film, learn to be a better dancer … have kid, get rich … all things considered I hope I really don't have cancer.”
I said “you know February I've tried religion and philosophy and they didn't work too good for me. I guess I'm still looking for an answer …
I really hope I don't have cancer.”