 |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
I�m carved of your flesh, You see me as colourless, Naked and fresh. But I hold a secret, Cupped in my hands, A rotten fruit, Birthed in sacred lands. I�ve taken my bite, Now its yours to eat, Its taste is typical, Bitter yet sweet. You grasp good and evil, Carnal knowledge and wealth, Your naked, its shameful! Cover yourself! Take my hand craven pilgrim, Its not my fault alone, �The woman did it!� You spit and moan. Now the snake is away, On its belly it must squirm, And leave we must, for we are dust, And unto dust we must return. |
