[Intro]
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

[Verse 1]
Doctor Psyche, the cut-rate headshrinker
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 on to 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

[Verse 2]
Doctor Psyche, the cut-rate headshrinker
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
[Verse 3]
Doctor Psyche, the cut-rate headshrinker
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 headshrinker