Like being between the yawning precipice
And the hurling stormy waters of the deep sea
The liqour that glistens in the crystal glasses as molten gold
With the faint lingering caress of succulent grapes
On its bittersweet intoxicating, addicting lips that lure
And the treacherous promise of lulled, forgotten pain
A sojourn into the world devoid of worry or tension
Cradled into arms of fabricated tranquility
Is a doorstep on the threshold of destruction
Behind the facade of false peace, hide the demons of ruin
That suck all vitality like a vampire’s fangs
The table of gamble mesmerises with promises of wealth
The shine of siver dollars blinds to the morrass of destruction
In the quest for more, all pockets are emptied
And the shackles of poverty bind the guilty hands
While dejection and despair flow down as tears of regret
But life has been lost like sand grains slipping from fists
Those left empty but for intricate line of fate…