Apple sat alone under a tree,
Lonely as ever, lonely as can be.
He strummed his guitar,
Pouted in silence,
When a bright light from afar,
Broke his sullen balance.
He'd been thinking about selling his soul,
To the highest bidder around,
To reach that heightened goal,
Of being the best player in town.
'Let's make a deal!' cried the light,
And the Apple questioned immediately,
'Are you the devil, light?


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