Each day a call, I'll recieve
absolution, the person believes
will come from my advice
usually, they'll call me twice.
It seems they know for sure
that my answers, are true and pure
their problems I always solve
taxing my poor resolve
But lately I've come to find
that, to my problems, others seem blind
so, whom do I get to give me release
besides the church or the police?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem