Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Final stanza

Our desires shall be from repressions free—
    As it's only right to treat them.
To your ego's whims I will sing sweet hymns,
    And ad libido repeat them.
With your hand in mine, idly we'll recline
    Amid bowers of neuroses,
While the sun seeks rest in the great red west
    We will sit and match psychoses.
So come dwell a while on that distant isle
    In the brilliant tropic weather;
Where a Freud in need is a Freud indeed,
    We'll always be Jung together.

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