Lust's arms are a tangling web.
Its gazes alone conjuring,
Frail souls to fall and ebb
Into Hell's unquenchable fury.
My soul was high upon the crest
Of holy thoughts and musings.
But sooner were its yearnings wrest
To idolatrous lurings.
Wild, drunk, and debauched turned I,
As lust its blood-drenched sword out drew.
It left my heart of love all dry,
As loveless lust sought more for new.
Lust's arrows are sharp and heavy
Piercing through man's entrails.
Then leaving its victim void and weary
It falls away with no avails.
True, remorse does first sooth the wound
But foregoes as lust keeps the strike.
Oh, that man would no longer play the fool
To follow lust's charms and lose his life.
The flick of the moment, the slip of time
The act of a fool in the daze of night.
Lustre ephemera, murderous wine.
Son, run from lust: stand not to fight.
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