Diane Hine - Sonnet 2: Mortal lyrics

The garden state of Eden soon proved stale to plucky and inquisitive young Eve So she decided she would rather leave than have that boring status-quo prevail. Now ever since we mope, be-moan and rail, throw up our hands, tear out our hair and grieve Pray fervently that there may be reprieve from naughty-Eve inflicted mortal jail. But may I say a word in her defence- How could immortal life hold any charm, when every game we play derives it's sense from striving 'gainst the impetus of harm. There could not be a purpose more intense than racing to elude d**h's shrill alarm.