Hold on, tender passion,

fold me into your arms

through the dawn’s gentle caress,

through the snake’s deadly charms.

Eden, oh Eden!

In the mountains I’ve strayed

down under the moonbow.

midst the hawthorn I’ve laid.

This apple clutched to me

reading much of this sin

stained into my lips

by the Devil’s sharp grin.

I lay midst my bile

reviling the day

my eyes strayed from you, love

in the black garden’s sway.

What art thou, fair gambler?

You’ve bartered my heart

for two-pence and some roses

and the black angel’s dart.

And now I’ve borne sorrow

from this we’ll reap pain

and I’ll rue his black shadow

in September’s sweet rain.

Do not say I lost you.

It was you who betrayed

my patience and wonder

for a heap of decay.

The dead, they do whisper

caress me with rot

mortality gained, death

the suitor I’ve wrought

And the dry, black dear corpses

our children shall be

as we hang blue with wanting

from the sycamore tree.



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