Your Body is A Tree of Love
They built a cross with hate and despair
And hung a young innocent body there.
In their anger it did grow, bearing fruit they didn’t know
They watered it with their fears
Night and morning with fresh tears
They sunned it with their evil smiles
And their soft deceitful wiles.
The cross it grew both day and night
Till it bore fruit to their delight
And the wicked did begin to dine
All declared it tasted just like wine
Its fruit they all wanted more
And scratched around on the floor
It acted upon them like a drug
The name of the fruit they called