Life is what you make it

As someone once observed

A phrase the sounds a trifle glib

But whoever thought it out had clearly never sorted out

The vexing problem of Adam's spare rib

Chastity I take it

Is specially reserved

For those possessing moral fibres

Mine fail me all the time

And maybe that's the reason I'm

A baa baa black sheep calling all subscribers

Time and again

I'm tortured with contrition

And swear that I'm sorry I've sinned

Then when I've got the whole thing sewn up

I must own up

Everything gets blown up

Freud could explain my curious condition

And jung would have certainly grinned

When I meet some sly dish

That looks like my dish

I'm sunk drunk gone with the wind

How can I start afresh

When the sins of the flesh override me

Maybe some some psycho analyst

Might slap my wrist

And give a twist

To what goes on inside me

If I could feign

The glandular transition

I'd settle for taking the veil

Time and again I try time and again I fail

Moralists disparage

A variable heart

And say that it should be fenced in

But they never think about

Effective means of casting out

That dear old die hard original sin

Table d'hô te is marriage

Free love is à la carte

And once you've crossed forbidden fruits off

You merely find that you've

Unwittingly set out to prove

The age old saying better with your boots off

Time and again

I've tried to form a credo

But some how I don't seem to learn

Just when I think my guardian angel's winning

I go spinning

Back to the beginning

I can't refrain from firing a torpedo abaft or ahead or astern

If I hit my quarry

I can't feel sorry

I'm hooked cooked done to a turn

Though I frequently wish

I could curb my conditioned reflexes

I'll be damned if I'll sacrifice

Sugar and spice

To be precise nothing as nice as s*x is

I can't restrain my lecherous libido from slipping and tipping the scale

Time and again I try time and again I fail