LIBERTARIAN GRAB BAG OR HOW TO SELL THE STATE IN SMALL PIECES

PARANOIA

This man I never saw before
At 3 a.m. breaks down the door
To tell me my aspirin is LSD.
«It says right there on the bottle,
Acetylsalicylic Acid.»
I tell you doctor, honestly,
It seems like someone’s after me.

I don’t think fighting is what I’m made for
But this lottery ticket I never paid for
Sold by a pusher known as Sam
Has won me a ticket to Vietnam,
A twelve months, expenses paid, tropical vacation
With a funeral, free, from a grateful nation.
But the doctor says I need therapy
For thinking someone is after me.

And then there are things I just can’t ignore
Like the little man in our bedroom door
Says we’ll be in jail by the end of the night
Unless we turn over and do it right.
Doctor, Doctor, come and see
There’s really someone after me.

Then he asks, as he rips off the sheet,
For our marriage license and tax receipt;
Says «you need a license to shoot at a duck
How come you think that it’s free to …»
Who so blind as will not see;
The state, the state, is after me.