The Therapy Sisters / Lisa Rogers

The Therapy Sisters / Lisa Rogers

 Austin, Texas, USA

The Therapy Sisters play original tongue-in-cheek, heart-on-sleeve upbeat uplifting songs that make clients say, "Ah, ha!" "Ha, ha!" and "Ah!" Lisa Rogers is a longtime Lone Star lyrical lampoon artist.


These Divas of Dysfunction are now accepting new clients. Maurine McLean and Lisa Rogers travel the country co-facilitating group sessions and demonstrating that music and laughter are the best medicine. This is one HMO (Happening Musical Opportunity) you�ll want to join. If psychotherapy were this much fun we�d all have our mental health!

LISA ROGERS, a native of Self Worth, Texas, and Practitioner of the Flat Pick, has played in many bands throughout the developmental stages of her life. Lisa has three sheepskins on her wall, but she puts her grey matter to its finest use as she sings of life at its most bizarre; therapy at its best.

In addition to co-facilitating group sessions with Maurine, and with the well-being of her clients and the country in mind, Lisa is also running for President and working as Director of Outreach at Out Youth (

MAURINE MCLEAN, from Codependence, Missouri, plays bass due to sheer avarice, believing she�s earning more money per note than a six-string guitar player does. Among the musical styles that influence her songwriting are comic opera, Mexican pop music, and TV theme songs of the 1960's. Music allows her to play with sound and meaning, two tireless companions. She's responsible for such Therapy Sisters songs as My Finger is an Instrument of Death, and, Don't Touch Me When I'm Beautiful. Giving people the giggles by playing music is her greatest delight.

Lisa's melodic guitar playing and Maurine's fretless bass go together like hallucinations and Haldol. Though accepted by no major medical insurance, The Therapy Sisters continue to offer their musical mental healthcare nationwide, reminding you that if you're not part of the problem, you're not part of the Family. But if you are one of the best-stressed people you know, let these regular contributors to Dr. Demento introduce your tongue to your cheek with the most affordable therapy in town.


Mad Cowboy Disease

Written By: Lisa Rogers & Maurine McLean

We’ve had four presidents from the lone star state
Though not always proud of ‘em, still they’re our claim to fate
Like good ol boys, they’d impose their will
But when they ran the land, things got out of hand and they took ill

First came Ike, which rhymes with spike, which connotes power
But his name was Eisenhower, which rhymes with flower
Ike fought The Big One and he had nothing to prove at all
So he could be seen out on the green playing with small balls
It’s from West Point that Ike got his diploma
He was born in Denison, which is almost in Oklahoma
He warned us all about the complex military
Which he learned about from his predecessor Harry
Compared to generaling, the White House was a breeze
Though Abilene’s his resting place, still he had the mildest case of Mad Cowboy Disease

What do we say about LBJ he was okay for a red neck
Like JKF, unlike Clinton, Lyndon avoided a bed check
Famous for his ears, Texas souvenirs, and taking us to outer space
The Tonkin Gulf affair, passing Medicare and trying to do right by race
Though he was elected with votes from dead guys, we said Bygones
But when he kept sending all those live guys over to Saigon, we said Whoa!
What about the Great Society? This doesn’t compute
Then we remembered his Texas ranch and his Stetson hats and big old boots
Whatever you say about LBJ, you can say it in Vietnamese
That’s when his career was toast and he was diagnosed with Mad Cowboy Disease

President Bush The Forty First was born in Milton, Mass
With a silver spoon and opportunities of the upper class
Like Lyndon and Eisenhower, George was one of our boys in uniform
So he shared the nightmare with kids in Panama and Desert Storm
He’s ruing the day he curtailed that foray and decided to scram
And left it to all up to junior to finish up with his nemesis, Saddam
Now George did the House, the UN, the CIA and the RNC
But Yale and Quayle and veils of secrecy haunt his legacy
Old 41 started to come undone when he ralphed on the red Chinese
Though he lives in Maine, it’s perfectly plain he suffers from Mad Cowboy Disease

The maddest cowboy of all, 41’s son, no Quincy, he
Would have you believe he’s a drinking buddy not the bourgeoisie
But history will tell of how W would sell our country to his corporate chums
For 30 pieces of silver and access to petroleum
Bring ‘em on dead or alive, this bonafide boob remarks
As he slaves to make the world safe for his fellow oligarchs
Cheney, Osama, Rummy and Condi all are the curse of Baghdad
W’s doing his worst to make certain we desperately miss his dad
He thought he could stick Bill Jefferson Clinton into parentheses
Instead this simpleton has been completely undone by a terminal case of Mad Cowboy Disease

I Need a Stalker

Written By: Lisa Rogers & Maurine McLean

From an early age I knew I was born for greatness
A gypsy said that fame was my destiny
But fortune keeps on slipping through my fingers
And thus far fame has eluded me
If I do say so myself I've got the talent and the looks
I've got ambition -- okay, make that greed
I've got everything it takes, but I still can't seem to make it
There's just one more thing I need.
I need a stalker, someone to tail me
Someone to threaten to expose me and blackmail me
I've gone about as far as I can get
My head shot isn't splashed across the tabloids yet
I'm not looking for someone to walk me home
I'm just looking for someone to stalk me.

There's really nothing to this job description
Since we're both wannabees, it'll be real easy
Just take my life and make up stuff about me
It's better if you make it sound real sleazy
You and I, we could make each other famous
Think of the book deals and the movie rights
I'll make sure you have my unlisted number
We'll have no more lonely nights
I need a stalker, it'd be a pleasure
If you'd go through my trash like it was buried treasure
I've gone about as far as I can get
Jay Leno hasn't cracked a single joke about me yet
I'm not looking for someone to walk me home
I'm just looking for someone to stalk me.

Don't believe what the papers say, you don't have to be crazy
Not every famous stalker was psychotic
Just think of us as business partners
Our relationship is purely symbiotic
I need a stalker, you need a stalkee
Someone to give your life direction and replace the ennui
We've both gone about as far as we can get
Our names have not been linked on the stalking website yet
I'm not looking for someone to walk me home
I'm just looking for someone to stalk me

Work Like You Don't Need the Money

Written By: Lisa Rogers & Maurine McLean

Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Dance like there’s nobody watching
And laugh like your mama said,
“You’ll get no spinach if you don’t finish all your dessert.”

Hold your ground, take up space
Life’s too short for such a long face.
The bottom line of such a lofty goal
Is you gotta lose yourself if you wanna save your soul

Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Dance like there’s nobody watching
Live like that zen buddist who’s now a nudist cause the dry cleaners lost his last shirt.

Eat your veggies like your life was at stake
Give with all your heart so somebody else can take
Three times a week you better move ‘til you break a sweat
Then take good care this time around in case this life is all we get

Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt before
Sing like there’s nobody listening
And sleep like that guy who keeps his whole family up at night cause
he never hears himself snore.

Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Dance like there’s nobody watching
And laugh like your mama said,
“You’ll get no spinach if you don’t finish all your relish every bite, just savor every drop of dessert.”

Jesus and Jesús

Written By: Lisa Rogers & Maurine McLean

Jesus and Jesús
by Lisa Rogers
High Top Tunes 2007

Who'll change the sheets in your hotel room, clean your house, mow your lawn
What would we do if one day all the Mexicans suddenly were gone
Needless to say we need someone to pay to do stuff that's beneath us to do
Don't tell la migra, que todos nosotros somos migrantes, too
[Don’t tell Immigration that we’re all immigrants.]

He picks the grapes, we drink the juice
We give thanks to Jesus, pero no a Jesús [but not to Jesús]

Who's making a killing with so many willing to give up their families and home
We'll never invest in their country, I suggest I, too, would be tempted to roam
Who really wants to unscramble the eggs laid by the golden goose
We love our Lord Jesus, but we don't know what to do with Jesús

He picks the grapes, we drink the juice
We feast at the table, waited on by Jesús.

Y su esposa, Maria, y su padre, José
[And his wife, Maria, and his father, José]
They do twice the jobs for half of the pay

The bill died in the Senate like some migrant in the dirt
It's easy to see the hotel industry are the ones who would really be hurt
If we legalized the influx and thus reduced the flow
Of those disposable people who make our economy grow

He picks the grapes, we bless the juice
The blood of Jesus, from the sweat of Jesús
He picks the grapes, and all our produce
Demos gracias a Jesus, y a la familia de Jesús
[Give thanks to Jesus, and the family of Jesús]

Nkosi Johnson

Written By: Lisa Rogers


This is the story of a boy, a little boy, a little Zulu boy
A boy who had no reason not to give up, but he gave it his all
This little boy, this little Zulu boy, his life was very short
But he will long be remembered by those who want his words to live on

He said “Do what you can
With what you have
In the time you’ve got
In the place you are”

He was two, this little Zulu boy was two years old
when the virus took his mom and the hospice took them in
Those dying queens and Gail Johnson
fell under the spell of Nkosi’s grin
He won the fight to go to school
He won a million hearts and minds
His ailing countrymen were not surprised to find that
All South Africa stood up taller when Nkosi raised the bar, saying

“Do what you can
With what you have
In the time you’ve got
In the place you are”

He was scared, he was fearless, he was often unsure
He was confident of one thing: he was dying for a cure
And with a wisdom far beyond his age
He stood with courage on the world stage, he said
“An illness has no shame
We are normal, we are all the same we do. . ”


This little story of a little Zulu boy, it’s just a drop in the bucket
And the bucket’s just a drop in an ocean of pain
What do we do, Do we wring our hands
Or do we stand together with our buckets in the rain, saying



CDs include:
Beyond Prescription
The Early Stages
Codependent Christmas
Sound Mind
Do Something
Let's Put a Folksinger in the White House

Set List

Typical set list is 95% original and 5% covers of obscure songwriters, mostly our friends. A typical show is two 45 minute sets with a 15 minute break, but we're nothing if not flexible, accommodating, and therapeutic.