
As I sit here in this room
Growing nervous with the wait
I kinda start to feel like
I'm being held for fish's bait.
As the assistant walks in,
With a clipboard and a smile,
She politely calls my name:
The victim is now on trial.
I walk back to the chamber
Slowly take a seat
She smiles down at me
And I begin to feel the heat
Although she makes small talk
She immediately goes to the head
Putting her grabby hands on me
Making me wish I was dead.
She opens my mouth and tells me
To give her my cheesiest grin
My head and heart
Begin chaotically to spin.
For a minute she just looks
Seeing whatever it is she sees
And my shaking begins to fall
All the way down to my knees.
Laying there in the chair
My mouth an open plate
It takes me absolutely everything
Just to keep my nerves straight.
Why would someone
Want to do this for a living?
Doing a job that just seems so
Merciless and unforgiving.
I know my teeth are crooked;
They're certainly not the best.
But do you really have to
Put my bravery to the test?
Why are these tools in my mouth?
I wonder if I could fake
Some kind of heart attack
To get me out of this place.
I shouldn't be afraid
To get my teeth cleaned.
I feel like such a wimp!
Man, I'm almost fifteen!
But what if there's a problem?
What diagnosis will she make?
I can't help being scared,
My health is at stake!
When the torture is over,
Mom goes up to pay
And I start to wonder,
Couldn't I have stayed home today?
For all the torture I went through,
These appointments should be free.
I mean who do they think they are,
Putting their hands on ME?
