Sensible Shoes

Well, it's five o'clock and I've finished work I've been booked in for some therapy Down the highway, foot down hard Blast my horn if you get in my way I'm sitting in a circle on a plastic chair Some guy named Kevin's sharing how he cares I'm biting my tongue, I'm counting to ten Playing back all the ways this could have been... The door swings open, in the therapist walks With a gentle smile and a couple of talks I look him up, I look him down And my vision starts to drown... In brown suede, laces, thick damn sole... SENSIBLE SHOES! I AIN'T TAKING NO ADVICE FROM YOU! SENSIBLE SHOES! YOUR BROWN SUEDE IS GIVING ME THE BLUES! (THE REDS!) He's talking about "breathing" and "finding my space" I'm just staring at the lace on his face He says, "Tony, your anger, it's a silent cry" I say, "Mister, your shoes are the reason I wanna die!" Or maybe the reason I wanna make you die... My knuckles are white, my jaw is locked tight The room is getting hot, the fluorescent light It's all buzzing down to a single, fixed point A fashion crime that's gonna break this joint! Those brown suede, laces, thick damn sole... SENSIBLE SHOES! I AIN'T TAKING NO ADVICE FROM YOU! SENSIBLE SHOES! YOUR BROWN SUEDE IS GIVING ME THE BLUES! (THE REDS!) Now the room is silent... Kevin's started to cry. The therapist is backed up against the "I Feel" wall. He's fumbling for his phone, about to make a call. And I'm just standing here... ten feet tall. SENSIBLE SHOES! I AIN'T TAKING IT! SENSIBLE SHOES! YOUR BROWN SUEDE... AGGGHHHHH! Sensible... sensible... sensible... ...shoes.