I was at the doctor’s,
Waiting in the queue...
Watching those around me,
Who were feeling blue...
All were here for answers,
To try and find a cure...
To seek some medication,
For the pain that we endure...
You just sit there wondering,
Is it going to be my turn soon...
I came in here at nine,
And now its nearly noon...
But then the line is getting shorter,
As you shuffle along the seat...
You've made it to poll position,
And the victory is so sweet...
The doctor calls you in,
After waiting there all day...
Then gives you a paper script,
And sends you're on your way...
Those lost hours of your life,
As you waited in that line...
For a few seconds of his advice,
To tell you that you’re fine...
Next time I will think twice,
When I’m feeling sick...
A good old fashioned remedy,
Could have really done the trick.
Len Newey 2012