If I had oh, if I only had a proper cunt
I would be delighted to lift my skirt for you.
I would gladly take your hard @@#! in my hands

and bury it, ever so deeply, in the darkness of my tomb.

Come, my handsome ghost of lust, and !@(# for me

I promise, it will get you out of your misery
I have been sleeping on the flours for days to keep myself from dreaming,
a punishment for things delayed and maybe for disbelieving.


Don't scare away the old crows in the field,
walking in lumber through rows and rows of corn.

I am madly in love with a sad illusion, don't you see
but, then again, aren't we all ?


He will build a temple, a temple for your Schwanz,
and he will build it with his mouth.
He will chant the poetry, words of heartfelt longing,

all through the lonely midnight hours.

If I had a proper cunt, I'd lift my skirt for you,

I'd take your hard @@#! in my hands and bury it deeply in my tomb.