Waiting Room Blues

I sit here on a blue love seat
And look at the rug on the floor.
I watch some kids look at the fish
That sit on a large wooden table.
There are people sitting listlessly
Some old, some sick, some hurt.
There is nothing to do in this boring room
Except look out the window panes,
So I try to think or something to write,
But I cannot because
I have the Waiting Room Blues.
If you've ever had this ailment
Then you know just what I mean.
The symptoms are simple,
And here they are:

Number One: Your hands start twitching
Number Two: You stare at the patterned rug
That stretches across the floor
Number Three: You can't think of a single
Productive thing to do.
Number Four: You just can't wait to get out
Of that spacious yet confining room.

Why, I'm even so bored that I actually read
The brochures that scatter the room.
All I want to do is get out of here,
This terrible, boring waiting room.