Some weirdness going down on the back side of the Edge of America.
Freud is about to leap from the second story, and Jung is whispering, “Jump, jump, jump.”
We have a madwoman in the attic, and a saint on the roof, Ophelia and St. Joan.
“Her sin is her lifelessness.”
Master Will and the Dalai Lama engaged in a staring contest.
All these people that you mentioned
Yes, I know them, they are quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good, don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row
Bob Dylan, “Desolation Row”