Traveling in circles,
|
The world's a sinking oyster,
|
And my bed's become unfathomably white.
|
|
Oh, workin' workin' workin' workin'
|
Dream about the cloister,
|
And occasionally get out to see the sun shine
|
|
Oh, then I see him at a distance,
|
He is devilishly handsome.
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He is charming and impeccably dressed.
|
He has a little black bag with him,
|
And what's in it isn't certain,
|
But I'm going to take an educated guess.
|
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Oh, I'm starting to feel faint,
|
Like a lady in a movie.
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Oh, someone fetch ammonia and some towels.
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Oh, but it needs to be administered
|
By a fella who is registered...
|
Is there a doctor in the house?
|
|
Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz,
|
Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz,
|
Show me how they treat you in the South.
|
|
You call this arctic bullshit summer?
|
It's a sad excuse for weather,
|
And I want to crawl and live inside the couch.
|
Oh, but despite the bitter chills,
|
And the difficultly breathing,
|
There's a fire in my stomach and it won't go out
|
Until I'm traveling in circles,
|
And the world's a sinking oyster,
|
and my bed's become unfathomably white.
|
|
Oh, workin' workin' workin' workin'
|
Dream about the cloister
|
And occasionally get out to see the sun shine
|
|
Could it be an illness
|
I've contracted from the business?
|
And could it be transmittable by mouth?
|
Oh, you my friends are witness,
|
As I try to kick the sickness,
|
Is there a doctor in the house?
|
|
Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz,
|
Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz, Doctor Oz
|
Show me how you do it...
|
In the South.
|
|
-----------------
|
Doctor Oz
|
| Amanda Palmer |
