[Intro — Spoken]
“So… how have things been since our last session?”
…Define “better.”
[Verse 1]
I showed up late with three iced coffees,
A notebook full of conspiracy.
Started with my childhood trauma,
Ended somewhere in astronomy.
Connected dots that weren’t connected,
Made a chart with seventeen strings.
By the time I hit the punchline…
Even I forgot everything.
[Pre-Chorus]
I don’t need advice…
I just need to hear me talk.
If overthinking burned calories,
I’d never have to walk.
[Chorus]
My therapist needs a therapist,
After listening to all of this.
I started with one tiny problem,
Now we’ve somehow reached the apocalypse.
Every session’s a plot twist,
Nothing ever stays on script.
My therapist needs a therapist…
And I should probably leave a bigger tip.
[Verse 2]
I ask, “What if?”
About a thousand different futures.
Catastrophize a paper cut
Like I’m starring in a feature.
They say, “Let’s stay in the present.”
I say, “I was there yesterday.”
Now I’m worried that I’m worrying
In an unhealthy kind of way.
[Pre-Chorus]
Deep breaths…
One thought at a time.
Mine travel at the speed of light,
Then somehow miss every sign.
[Chorus]
My therapist needs a therapist,
I’m an emotional aerobics class.
Every answer grows ten questions,
Every hill becomes a mountain pass.
They’re taking notes…
Then taking breaks.
I think I heard them mutter,
“For goodness’ sake…”
My therapist needs a therapist…
I’m keeping the entire industry paid.
[Bridge]
Maybe…
I’m not impossible.
Maybe…
I’m just extra complicated.
Maybe…
Actually, never mind—
I’ve got another thing I overanalyzed.
[Final Chorus]
My therapist needs a therapist,
But somehow they still show up.
They’ve mastered the art
Of untangling my beautifully chaotic stuff.
One day I’ll probably figure it out…
Or at least I’ll fake some progress.
Until then…
See you next Tuesday…
Same couch.
Same mess.
[Outro — Spoken]
“So… anything else?”
…
Actually…
Yes.
Lord_Icicle
