Your father’s turbid deceit Indelibly stains your wicked conscience Your love of the idols Condemned your age to 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 libidinis; ut máneat in me virtus continéntiae et castitátis