Annual Physical Paperwork Form-Fill

There is a specific kind of stillness that only happens in exam rooms. The paper gown crinkles if you shift your weight, so you stop shifting your weight. The fluorescent tube above the second chair has been flickering for what feels like one term of office. You have already read the laminated poster about hand-washing twice. The clipboard is done — prior conditions tallied, emergency contact written in, signature on the consent line at the bottom, the one for treatment not yet specified. You set it on the counter and there is nothing left to do but exist inside the wait.

This track lives in that room. The Rhodes idles like a thought you keep having. The drum loop counts time the way a wall clock counts time — steadily, without urgency or mercy. A muted trumpet drifts in from somewhere down the hall, then disappears. The vocal hook arrives with the tone of someone reading their own chart aloud: not alarmed, not impatient, just noting the facts for the record. Same medications. Same last time. Probably. The doctor is just finishing up. That was twenty minutes ago.

[Verse 1] They handed me the clipboard at the desk Same stack of forms, same blue pen without a cap Prior conditions, medications, date of birth I filled this out in 2022

[Pre-Chorus] The fluorescent light above the second chair Has been flickering since I got here

[Chorus] I listed my medications again Same as last time, probably The doctor's just finishing up That was twenty minutes ago

[Verse 2] Do you have a history of — I circle no Except for the one I always circle yes Emergency contact, same as always I wrote her name a little neater this time

[Bridge] The paper gown crinkles when I breathe I've been sitting here long enough to know The order of the posters on the wall Still no update on the wait

[Chorus] I listed my medications again Same as last time, probably The doctor's just finishing up That was twenty minutes ago

[Verse 3] I sign the bottom where it says I consent To treatment I haven't been told about yet I fold the clipboard back and set it down There is nothing left to fill

[Outro] (instrumental fade — Rhodes resolves, crackle continues, muted trumpet drifts out)