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Freud was right about you, man
It’s all cos you’re worried that
Your daddy’s dick might be bigger
And now you’ll never know
You saw it once when you were ten
And ever since then you’ve been
Telling yourself you’re a grower
But in your mind you know
That you feel insecure
And your ego’s unsure
If your id is appeased
Sometimes a pen is just a pen
But more often than not
In your case I believe it’s symbol
Of what you never had
You take it out and show it off
But signing your name is a stain
On your teenage bedsheets
You’ll never wash it out
So stare at your reflection as
You get yourself off to
Pictures of yourself
When will you see it
Repressed little creeper
That you look like your mum

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