I kiss every whore on the lips,
I kiss every pimp on the eyes,
My passivity lies at the feet of every killer,
And my Spanish cape shields every fleeing thief.
Everything is the raison d'etre of my life.

I've committed every crime,
Lived within every crime
(In vice I was not this person or that person
But the vice-in-person carried out between them,
And these are my life's most arch-triumphant times.)

I multiplied myself to feel myself,
To feel myself I had to feel everything,
I overflowed, I did nothing but spill out,
I undressed, I yielded,
And in each corner of my soul there's an altar to a different god.