Да ещё и не по-русски на этот раз...

Kiss me again, rekiss me and kiss me,
Slip your frigid hands beneath my shirt.
This useles old fucker with his twinkling cunt
Doesn't care if he gets hurt.

If it were but a matter of faith,
If it were measured in petitions and prayer,
She would materialise, all fleshed out,
But it is not, nor do I care.

So hold me and hold me, don't tell me your name,
This morning will be wiser than the evening is.
Then leave me to my enemied dreams
And be quiet as you are leaving this.

(c)