Burning and bubbling, the volcano smokes,
The lava of revenge in its bowels does writhe.
To come and burn the outside folks,
And cut their lives with the sharpest scythe.
A man’s mind must hence be pure,
To keep the sizzling lava asleep.
For if he is even a bit unsure,
Then he might change to make a stone weep.
The dark spots will then turn darker,
His thoughts will turn towards evil.
Vengeance will be his only marker,
Be ready to do anything for that he will.
Haven shall be the lost faith,
Seek he must with hope his tool.
If found, his soul is saved from being a wraith,
And his emotions wisely will he rule.
