Dr. Psyche, the Cut-Rate Head-Shrinker

In a shabby little office
On a shabby little street
Sits a shabby little doctor
In his shabby little seat
Every shabby little secret
How he sure loves to betray
He will give you shabby treatment
Every night and every day

Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker
On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker
I only see him when my brain starts to snap
This slouch has no couch, I hang onto a strap
He never got his PhD
In book-learning he really lacks
He ducked all his classes in psychiatry
Now he's known as the king of the quacks

Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker
On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker
And though by my stories he's seldom impressed
He's helped many women get things off their chest
He never got his PhD
His mind has been so hard to reach
His Freudian textbooks are something to see
With trading stamps pasted in each

Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker
On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker
I learned that his technique is oh so refined
From all my fixations he helps me unwind
And he tells me quite gravely it's all in my mind
Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker