It is by virtue of the past
That we are prone to sin
And it’s not very difficult
To let the blighter’s in
Everything we try to do
To live a perfect life
Is thwarted by those potent barbs
That aid us in our plight.
Each day we sorrowfully enquire
Will You please take our lot
And hand it over rather fast
In case it makes a blot
Upon our pristine character
That’s okay for a while
Before the process starts again
You might as well just smile.
