Oh god do let me this time sin
Let all your writing angels sleep
Let this heat over virtue win
Let this secret be buried deep
Adam and Eve were made to leave
Father of men was made to fall
Imagine what he would not give?
To sin, and be unknown to all
The clerics would now question me
But to revolt is worse than death
The evil which I hide in me
A prisoner of my own breath
Anas Merchant