Little spider hanging high,
underneath a cloudy sky,
waiting for a feckless fly,
one that will not pass him by.
With his web he hopes to try
to catch one, and then, by and by,
eat one, so he does not die.
Writings by me, for me. Forgive me.
Little spider hanging high,
underneath a cloudy sky,
waiting for a feckless fly,
one that will not pass him by.
With his web he hopes to try
to catch one, and then, by and by,
eat one, so he does not die.
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