Our wealth an unfaithful wife, she's sooner gone when perils knock.
A bridegroom to poverty you may find yourself. A glutton, not a meal will she spare.

Our vessels, dust that longs for dust, in daily decay.
Our habitats are pedestrians in paths of typhoons and wrothful waves.
Our families are cups of bliss but a well of dismay.

We dull the mind in sewers, with each sip an illusion of joy resumes, as sorrows sleep.

A well of eternal bliss longed for having rejected The Owner. The springs of life freely flows but sewers we have preferred.
The spring of life flows freely the invitation has been shared.