[Intro] Yeah. Get the medical records. Get the files. And the supporting documents too, while we’re at it. Trust me He’s a doctor. Allegedly (Say whaaat?) [Verse 1] He steps onto the server like it’s his hospital ward, Long black beak, looking grim as the Grim Reaper himself, Plague mask on, that mysterious gaze, But ask about his degree man, he slams that book shut fast. "Trust me, I’m a doctor" yeah, that’s exactly what he said, While the website update hung over him like the Sword of Damocles, The Doc has patience, the Doc has style, Until Emi and Xin start constantly getting on his nerves. "Hey Doc, update?" "Hey Doc, when?" "Hey Doc, new feature?" "Can you fix this thing again?" Built a site, now he’s stuck in the business, The whole damn server sending requests non-stop. Computer stuff? Yeah, that’s pretty damn vague, But when something breaks, who gets the heat? Everyone panicking, everyone shouting, The Doc walks in, totally calm: "That’ll be one dollar." Except he doesn’t charge a thing, that’s the funniest part, Tech support has become as close to his heart as surgery, man; Level-headed, calm, a rock in the storm And how do we treat him? Like the unpaid I T scapegoat on duty, of course. [Chorus] Good Doctor, Good Doctor, answer the call, Half the folks here don't know what the buttons do at all, Good Doctor, Good Doctor, save the damn day, But then someone shows up with a new upgrade anyway. Good Doctor, Good Doctor, keeping cool under stress, Fix one little thing, and the whole crew wants more, I guess, Good Doctor, Good Doctor, what can we say? You built us a playground Now go ahead and update it. [Verse 2] American confidence dialed up to the max, Say it loud, then say it again, just the facts, That red-white-and-blue "I know what I'm doing" swagger, Even when nobody asked for the show. "Raise hell and praise Dale!" Man, what’s that supposed to mean? Sounds like NASCAR crashed the Discord scene, One hand on the keyboard, one on the railing, Yelling "Yeehaw!" like the server’s up for sale. And those dad jokes; Lord, someone’s got to step in, "Hi Tired, I’m Dad" like we haven't heard that one before, Mid-thirties and already set For the BBQ apron and the folding lawn chair. He’s got that calm vibe, that level head, Which makes every dumb joke ten times worse, You expect wild nonsense from the rest of the crew, But Doc drops a dad joke and acts like he cooked the meal too. And somehow, the man still commands respect, People bring him problems, and he really listens, He’s easy to talk to, but here’s the rub: You’re just way too reliable How are we supposed to give you a hard time? [Chorus] Good doctor, good doctor, answer the call, Half the people here don't even know what the buttons do, Good doctor, good doctor, save the damn day, But then someone shows up with a new upgrade again. Good doctor, good doctor, keeping your cool under pressure, Fix one little thing, and the whole crew wants more, Good doctor, good doctor, what can we say? You built us a playground Now go ahead and update it. [Bridge] But jokes aside: There’s a reason they come to you. Not because of the website. Not because of the bug fixes. It’s because you listen. You make space when someone needs to talk, You don’t push yourself to the front just to hear yourself speak, You offer advice with a cool head, And somehow, you make people feel heard when they need it. A year isn’t a long time, But you’ve become a part of this place. You’ve created a spot where we can bring what we create, Where we can share it out loud, laugh about it, celebrate it, And keep coming back. And yes, You even like a Brit. So, medically speaking, Maybe there is something wrong with you after all. [Final Chorus] Good Doctor, Good Doctor, answer our call, It turns out: You’ve held us all up, Good Doctor, Good Doctor, here’s the truth: You’ve given this whole crew a place to really unwind. Good Doctor, Good Doctor, jokes aside, You’re one of the reasons this place is alive, Good Doctor, Good Doctor, hear us out We tease you because you’re family, Not because you’re an easy target. [Outro] So here’s to the Doc with the plague mask on his face, The server tech, the steady hand, the heart of this place, To every bad dad joke, every repair, every file, To every "one more update" that cost you your time. You can take the teasing. You can handle a bit of ribbing. But deep down... Doc, you’re loved. Trust us. We aren’t doctors.
