… and so here I am.
What have you done to me?
I gave you a garden land,
And all of it for free.

I asked for, in return,
But one small thing:
To love me, and to learn
To rejoice, and to sing.

Instead of that you chose
To play a foolish game,
And into my garden arose,
To put it all to shame.

Heeding every vice,
At greed’s insistence,
You did put a price
Upon my existence.

If ever you could sell,
All you do possess,
Whatever would you tell
To buy forgiveness?

Whatever will you say,
At this day’s end,
To ever let you play
In my garden again?

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