The Ballad of Sexual Addiction

Now there is already a man who is Satan himself,

the butcher: he! And all the others: cattle!

The audacious dog! The worst whoremonger!

Who boiled him, who boils everyone? Women.

It doesn't ask whether he's ready or not -- he just is.

That is the sexual addiction.

He does not believe in the Bible, nor the book of middle class laws,

he means to be the biggest egoist.

He knows that whoever sees a woman is already compromised

and lets no woman in his vicinity:

he should not praise the day before the evening,

for before it becomes night, he lies up there again.

So many a man saw many a man croak,

a great soul remained stuck in a whore!

And those who saw it, they also swore to themselves,

yet as they croaked, who buried them? Whores.

Whether they want to or not -- they are ready.

That is the sexual addiction.

He holds himself to the Bible, he upholds the middle class codes.

He becomes a Christian! He becomes an anarchist!

At midday they force themselves not to chow down on celery.

Afternoons they embrace yet another idea.

In the evening they say, "I'm doing so well -- I'm the top,"

yet before it becomes night, they lay up there again.

Now one stands there almost under the gallows already,

the quicklime to put him in has already been bought.

His life hangs on brittle filaments

and what does he have in his head, that fellow? Girls.

Already underneath the gallows, yet he is ready:

That is the sexual addiction.

Anyway, his hide and hair have already been sold,

he had seen her with Judas's thirty pieces of silver

and he begins now to understand

that a vagina was his grave hole.

And he likes to rage against himself and rant --

before it becomes night, he lays up there again.