Shiftless In Texas

I can't seize control, but then I never could. Paperwork and neverwork keep piling up on me and I keep looking for fact and figure pages in my mail or in my disregarded piles already here that I disregard too soon and I can't remember where anything is, then govt. clowns come around and expect me to know what year and even what month I started this or that job Or what year and month I ended one of those bad trips, I guess they call it my work career, but not me-- I call it something else. You know how rude I am. Some clerk with a bad accent is asking me over the phone to describe What essentially would define my disability, And I would if i could but that would be a success That no emergency doctor nor any steady doctor has yet done. You know, I don't know what the fuck to tell a clerk And I wish he'd die and leave me the hell alone, I might kill him if he were in my face and maybe some day he'll make that mistake. Meanwhile, there's a whole lot of doctors I may kill If they don't kill me first By having no idea what I've got, no matter what examinations they conduct. They didn't know before I had that $40,000 stroke And they still don't know, the fuckwads. Seems like $40,000 would be enough to've bought lunch for God But if it bought any doctors, they haven't stayed bought, They want me to pay and pay or stay away. I make appointments night and day, it seems... The kindliest patient I can find within me Hopes that every doctor in America dies Of anything painful and that eats their soul out slowly. Dr. Kildare, Dr. Wellby, that's just pretentious TV crap-- I think that Puff the Dragon has probably cured more ills.