In the island of Sateor;
souls wandering in brevity,
lost and astound,
where each turn leads to insanity
Oh! For a blame to quench
the fire of chastity
came handy like wrench
in the midst of mattocks;
shattering the edge to win
by just a strike of sin.
Long lost vision
in a washed white tomb;
is the product of a cursed course;
Course in syncytium with curse;
of curse from the nest of selfishness.
Sateor, a peace mine,
please quell these pierced minds.
These minds only think of self;
please tame these fierce minds;
en route a cursed course