Here, in the Garden.
We, know not what we do.
Made to dine in pastures full of grain.
Left to die unclean.
If we were promised Heaven,
then why put them through hell?
Here, in the Garden.
We, know not what we do.
Made to dine in pastures full of grain.
Left to die unclean.
If we were promised Heaven,
then why put them through hell?