Daughters of my downfall, must it always be?
“Yes it must my fallen, for God smote Adam, then He smote Eve.”
Yet ye sirens, is it possible, that I may be made clean?
“If it were so, my fallen, of life we’d have no need.”
Oh daughters of my downfall, in you I confess,
I am no more a virtuous man than your beauty is not a curse.
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