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Your father’s turbid deceit
Indelibly stains your wicked conscience
Your love of the idols
Condemned your age to a fierce loneliness
The sins of your liberteen-age
Have made you a syphilitic wench
You cannot deny your essence
And bargain it for any idea of Heaven

So sweet whore just kneel
Kiss your Monsignor
And reckon your lustful whims
As of fate a sinister gift

I beg you Marilene
Give up your prayers
I’ll save you and return you
Back to perdition
I beg you Marilene
Give up your tears
I’ll save you from remorse
I’ll bring you to pleasure

Praecínge me, Dómine, cingulo puritátis,
et extíngue in lumbis meis humórem libídinis;
ut máneat in me virtus continéntiae et castitátis.

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