Abstract
I have to keep reminding me
You're a patient, I'm a doctor
And you're not the way you want to be.
You're a wounded willow tree
And your therapy's a chore
I keep on reminding me
Your diverted eyes can see.
Why you come… you are not sure
Is this the way you want to be?
Clearly you'd prefer to flee
Your non-grip hands droop to the floor
And I have to keep reminding me
There are no friends where you can be
Smile of a sawdust pile, you have no one to bore.
But you're not the way you want to be.
I stop me getting angry, I see
your soul is sore.
But I need to keep on telling me
This is not the way you want to be.