I open the door to the garden, and everything’s there.
The garden opens my doors, and it strips me bare.
I’m wandering naked as Adam, and I don’t care.
My private parts are not private, my nipples are proud,
the tweets of the birds are almost intolerably loud,
the world is pleased to meet me, the sky has no cloud.
God has something in mind for me, he has a plan,
my own special destiny, because I’m a man:
free will to mess up everything since it began.
Here I am in this garden of earthly delight,
but somehow I can’t help thinking things aren’t quite right.
I can’t just walk out of the garden – but then again I might.
There will be things that require effort and sometimes pain.
There will be anger, betrayal, adultery, labour in vain.
There will be more bad thoughts than can be held in one brain.
My body begins to disturb me, it seems to be sinning:
whatever it is that’s going wrong seems to be winning.
I can’t help feeling this problem is just the beginning.
I cover it all in fear and trembling, I pick up some leaves
and hide my shame, for whatever good that achieves,
and I go back out into the world full of Adams and Eves.
