Pleasure plays its game when obeyed the voice of desire,
There sneaks into the chamber of peace a ghost of darkness
Invisible to the eyes of flesh and bones with the wand of evil.
Looking at the world busy with mundane philosophies
Each moment of time exploited to reap corns out of weeds,
There sleep souls stained with lawlessness and unrighteousness.
Each rule of the game dictates the conscience to slip and fall,
And the conscience, buried underneath the coffin of deception
Once kept for sale on the Tree of Knowledge ‘midst the garden.
The souls never wake up, and the conscience looks bargaining with the ghost.
The bargain looks heavier than the product laid for sale.
Countless souls fall in line to buy the coffin of deception,
And there breaks out rupture and chaos in dramatic monologues.
The ghost never speaks of the warranty of the product,
But fills its ghastly den of glittering darkness with the fallen souls.
Time and again there strikes the conscience with the voice of Heaven,
But sin and pleasure hath shrouded the sleeping souls with their wand of deception.
The Word of God keeps knocking the door of the souls,
But the souls run down with the charm of wealth and wine.
The ghost of darkness hath sit on the flesh of the souls.

And there appears the Cross drenched in blood and shame
For HE hath laid the curse on HIMSELF for the fallen souls to breathe again,
And HE longs for their repentance and forgiveness to take them back with HIM.