The jagged scorch trail, it burns a path down my cardiac muscles

Doc said its too many ciggies, too many Winstons and Churchills

It’s not that doc. People have been bad to me, man. Rudelike, I plead

You’d rather bear physical pain or the brunt of emotional misdeed?

If it were up to me, doc, neither. I’d hole up all alone with my books

This is the world, sonny, here’s a Diazepam to go with your looks;

You’re fucking distraught, eyes wide as manholes, your skin pallid

You’re a poet you say? Go get catharted, write a couple of ballads!

There are no bad dogs, only dogs that got bit by bats, the doc said

Give em some space, take their blows, best if you cautiously tread

Man, doc, I don’t normally say this, but you one fucked up physician

Ha-ha, son, I’m juggling being a surgeon, a shrink, and a mortician!

Why, doc, in the world are you being a jack of all trades? I asked aghast

’cause I’m people, kid, as you said, and I’m bad people, the doc laughed