It's quite absurd how many birds can really sing
It's just a dream, they say
But you know you're awake
Twenty-four blackbirds can't be wrong
For Heaven's sake!
Carl Jung would never have
Argued with old Cupid
He'd talk to the sphinx
He was never so stupid
Think about it
Lie on the couch, and stay
Tell us all your problems
Now you see ghosts by day?
You could make films!
Carl Jung was a painter
You've that much in common
He'd find missing links
When his dreams grew too solemn
Think about it
Dream about it
In a moment... Of madness all things may come
Meanings and symbols again from mountains all the way
To the underworld
Flying down and diving up again
And getting stuck on the staircase
This is reality
It's not television
What in your absence did you expect-
Disconnection?
Carl Jung fell out with Freud
You just fell out of bed
And remember that dreaming's, quite
Like being dead
Think about it
Dream about it