Like Wakefield in Headlights

Thank god that you're in tune Or I'd be injected with crackpot residue He's in the business of excavating truth He had a medical license to boot Here lie his steadfast recruits Died from a case of the fluke No use in delivering proof If you're backed by meddling suits The warlocks with tickets to heaven Are threatening to sue And oh, what's a doctor to do If they've got nothing to prove? Thank god that you're in tune Or I'd be intellectually marooned