Just Pick One, Dr Jones

Scribe's log, nine-oh-two. Dr. Jones has begun explaining lens options.
Scribe's log, nine forty-one. Dr. Jones is still explaining lens options.

Mrs. Abernathy, sweet as pie
Cloudy lens in her right eye
Dr. Jones pulls up his rolling chair
That's the sound of a long, long affair

"There's a standard lens, a toric, a multifocal too"
She nods and smiles, "Which one is blue?"
He draws an eyeball on a paper towel
I type "discussed options" and quietly howl

Just pick one, Dr. Jones
She's lovely, but it's never gonna land
Tell her what you'd do and hold her hand
Just pick one, Dr. Jones
Half the county's in the lobby, Doc
And I've typed this paragraph since nine o'clock

She asks, "Now, what would you tell your mother?"
I lean in. Here it comes. Oh, brother.
"Well, it's really your decision," he says with care
And starts the whole thing over from his chair

Twelve o'clock, his sandwich waits in the fridge
One o'clock, he draws the eye again, it's got a little bridge
Two o'clock, the sandwich gave up and went home
Three o'clock: "So which one's blue?" Oh, Dr. Jones.

Just pick one, Dr. Jones
She's lovely, but it's never gonna land
Tell her what you'd do and hold her hand
Just pick one, Dr. Jones
Half the county's in the lobby, Doc
And I've typed this paragraph since nine o'clock

I came here young, I had dreams
Now I type "risks, benefits, alternatives" in my sleep, it seems
My keyboard's worn a hole right through the R
The waiting room has started a choir
They're pretty good. They've had time to rehearse.

Just pick one, Dr. Jones
Tell her what you'd do and hold her hand
Just pick one, Dr. Jones
And I've typed this paragraph since nine o'clock

Five fifty. She smiles. "I'll think about it."
"Wonderful conversation!" says Dr. Jones.
I type: "Patient will think about it."
Again.