Modern man is caught in lust
Though unaware of all the best,
A victim of mood, temporary passion
He is a foe of great compassion,
Plants are blooming all the nude
His flesh-pride kissing rude,
A bottle of sins on his head
Endlessly he craves to tread,
Along the path of false love
Boils a cauldron on sex stove,
Woos innocents with wretched lies
How blind are his folded eyes.