(WARNING: Adult Content)
“Psychology Blues” by Scott Cannon
Exhausted, wasted, strung-out, bent
From all the useless energy spent
I’m a physical wreck and my mind is a mess
The problem with me is I can’t handle stress.
So I went to the clinic like some kind of clown
Hoping they’d give me some ups or some downs
Filled out the form, signed my name to the list
Of neurotics who wanted a therapist.
I told them that lately I’d been feeling depressed
And I knew that depression is anger repressed
I said my dog died and my girl just left town
And I really needed some ups or some downs
They handed me over to a guy with a beard
And I knew right away it was gonna get weird
His diplomas said he was educated
And he wanted to know if I masturbated.
I said it seemed like my life was a mess
He asked if I thought I’d like wearing a dress.
I asked him what he thought could be wrong
He told me I wanted to fuck my mom.
I said I felt better; got up from my seat
And that’s when I noticed he was beating his meat
While I told him about my girl and my dog
Behind his desk he was flogging his log.
I took off then, and haven’t been back
The doctor they gave me was really a quack
I only wanted some ups or some downs
But I couldn’t see wasting my time with those clowns.
The help that the clinic offers for free
Is passed out by fools more fucked up than me
From now on whenever I can’t take the heat
I’ll go out and look for my drugs on the street.
(Send your outrageous or simply fun or musical poem to firstname.lastname@example.org.)