This harlot's clutch is inescapable

Let her know not your heart breakable

Hum your happy tune for now

To the Queen of Cups, you'll bow

When she melts in your bloodstream

Polluted air will then taste clean

So, cover your eye; kiss your mother

This tragedy will strike like thunder

Thank Herr Kollisch ' the high she brings

And curse that wretched song she sings