Well, I woke up this morning in a cloud of despair.
I ran my hand across my head,
pulled out a pile of worried hair.
I went to my physician who was buried in his thoughts

he said, ´Son, you´ve been reading
too much Elephant Talk.´

He said, ´The thing about depression is,
well you just can´t let it get you down,
you have to see the world for what it is:
a circus full of freaks and clowns
and you´ll never please everybody,
it´s a well established fact´,
he said, ´I recommend a fifth of Jack
and a bottle of Prozac.´

What can you give a man who has everything?
Can you give him back his edge,
can you make him want to sing?
No, you can only take from him,
and there´s nothing he can do.
I´ve got the driving me to drink and eat

a bottle of Prozac blues.

Well, I woke up this morning and I shaved off my head.
By the time I realized what I had done I was already dead.
I went to see the gatekeeper who was standing by Heaven´s door,
he said, ´I hope you brought a good supply of... you know´