The greatest sin I’ve e’er committed
Was to let myself get fitted
For a straight and slender suit
Which had, attached a bitter root
That quickly fed upon my wounds
and in good time began to swoon
Until, to date, it’s like an oak tree
Which from its root I cannot break free
For seven years I’ve paid my dues
And tried in vain to be cut loose
But the roots are thick, the axe is small
And it’s got me all twisted in a ball.
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