Towards the end of the day,
When some sets everywhere;
Some rises here and there,
Poaching for their quenching greed.

At night, in red sweaty rooms,
A new Dead is in the making-
Little ugly devils,
The wraths of the Past.

Fun was not on God's agenda,
Yet, the enslavement tool took over.
Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice:
The scar-hearted ladies;...