When I was young I didn't apply myself;

in reality, my value no more than an elf.

Oh how I wasted my time in frivolity;

now, fully aware of modern gullibility.

Nothing you desire can compare to her;

even great riches, if that's what you prefer.

Discretion will watch over you, simple and pure;

avoid the common crowd, get the effective cure.

How do you spend your twenty-four hour;

eight are for sleeping, does the rest make you cower?

What kind of material do you regularly read;

is it the kind that makes you feel like a tumbleweed?

So much to pick from, we feed our mind;

many though remain in that unfulfilling grind.

It's easy to miss the mark, and I spare you that;

just follow prudence, that's where contentment's at.

When I was young I didn't apply myself;

the true riches were veiled, I sought after pelf.

Now you know that worldly things alone produce grief;

be of good cheer, align yourself with the divine motif.