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About Catania

What pisses me off? The highborn twats judgin’ her. Call her filth, then sneak to her bed at night. Hypocrisy, mate—makes me wanna smash somethin’. “The law is the law,” they say in the movie, but whose law screws her over? Not mine, I say. I drink, I know things—prostitutes ain’t just whores, they’re survivors. Did ya know, back in Rome, they had sacred ones? Temple prossies—fucked for the gods! Wild, right? Bet Liza’d laugh at that.

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I sit outside, sipping my coffee, and suddenly, this old man starts telling me about the history of Dolianova. Apparently, it’s got roots going back to the Roman times. I’m like, “Wow, that’s cool, but can you keep it down? I’m trying to write a song here!” But he just keeps going on about the ancient ruins and stuff. I’m half-listening, half-trying to come up with a catchy chorus.

Goodbye Tigger: the kitten burned alive in Dolianova didn't make it