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dialogue: ma che specie di medico è? - robert weede & keith kaldenberg lyrics

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[tony, spoken]
ma che brutta sorte! ma che specie di medico è? sono incarcerato! maledetto dottore! hey! dottore! what the h*ll you say? twelve weeks?

[doc, spoken]
twelve weeks.

[tony, spoken]
twelve weeks. ma che brutta sorte! ma che—

[three biddies, spoken]
good morning, tony.

[tony, spoken]
good mornin’? it’s a son*of*a*bi— mornin’! he says i’m*a gotta sit in this wheelchair for twelve weeks. twelve d*mn long weeks! a ci picchia! caspita! orrore! maledetto dottore! hey, dottore! i’m*a don’t care. twelve weeks in the chair. come on, hurry up. gimme the medicine, gimme the pills! hurry up, hurry up, quick!

[doc, spoken]
easy, now. easy, tony! easy.

- robert weede keith kaldenberg lyrics

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