The Telephone Supplications
Picking up the receiver of Love,
I dial God, Pleasure and
Happiness.
The lamenting dial tone
eagerly waits
So as to turn mellow to the
hopeless ears.
Through the mouthpiece of
Beelzebub,
I send my supplications along
the line of whores.
Sorted in the switching
center of brothels,
They go through mosques and
shrines of hate.
'It's a long-distance call,
too long to get across.
The called party is asleep
after a long orgy,
The calling party, you, seems
drunk.
Please dial the toll free
Pain, Nice Day!'
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