The Psychiatrist

In the office of a shrink

The secretary's wearing pink

It's twelve o'clock, work starts at ten

It seems the doctor's late again

At twelve fifteen, he does appear

On his breath, the smell of beer

Hung over from the night before

He goes inside and slams the door

As he's hanging up his coat

He sees a little post-it note

Where his secretary scrawled

That a couple patients called

At one o'clock, he does begin

One by one, he calls them in

He sits them down upon the chair

And then he just pretends to care

And while the stupid people grovel

He used to take notes for his novel

Forget this "being confidential"

These stories all have some potential

The stupid spanish cleaning man

Always spic, but never span

Threw his manuscript away

He got deported yesterday

So now he'll watch the sweep-hand clock

Which doesn't tic, and doesn't tock

He watches time just spin away

And doesn't hear the things they say

"Doctor please, I fucked my brother

And we've grown to hate each other"

This would not make him blink an eye

He'd come up with a quick reply :

"Have a kid with thirteen toes

and sell it to the circus shows

Take the pills, you fucking freak

And we'll meet again next week"

Indifferent to insanity

Disgusted by humanity

He doesn't judge, and won't condemn

But of course... he fucks with them

"Doctor, my libido's gone

now only asians turn me on"

The doctor looks up from his chair

And minimizes solitaire

"Asians eh?" The doc replies,

"Airtight cunts and tighter eyes

You can't tell if they're really mad

Surprised, upset, or even sad"

He takes a shot of coke and gin

"Get out and send the next one in"

He has no patience for his patients

He messes with their medications

He'll switch Prozac with sleeping pills

Their HMO will pay the bills

It's not as evil as it seems

Let them have depressing dreams

He takes the Prozac from before

Opens up the bottom drawer

And wonders if he has a soul

A bottle labeled "birth control"

All the pills, they look the same

So he'll never take the blame

At least he guaranteed they smiled

On the day they had their child

Sometimes, on a boring day

He'll tell people that they're gay

The truth 9 inches out of reach

He always gives this awful speech:

"It's the cause of your depression

Simple, age old, fag repression

The secret to a happy soul

Is a bloody, wrecked asshole"

It's satisfying to have known

That you got a gay guy blown

And hey, he's right one out of ten

When he claims they're into men

They grant you such amazing power

For 200 bucks and hour

And that's just for the bad advice

For medications, raise the price

When every day becomes insane

It's ordinary, even plain

But look at that, it's half past five

He made it through the day alive

His secretary says goodnight

And turns off the florescent light

He puts on his shiny shoes

And packs up his work and booze

He wants to leave, but just before

He opens up the cupboard door

And pulls one Prozac off the shelf

Which he'll be keeping for himself