Oh dear what can the matter be
We sometimes hate our own family
Oh,dear send for new batteries
My husband is flat with despair.
Oh,dear what can the matter be
Ambivalence strains all the flattery
Oh,dear, drive to the cattery
Alfred has lost all his hair.
He promised to lie on my lap until Saturday
He promised to eat his food and to chat to me
He promised to kiss me and love me and vacuum me
I’ll have a hot bath and prepare.
Freud says that all relationships are ambivalent.We hate those we love sometimes.It is normal in the sense that we are vulnerable to them.But we live with it
How my heart sings 