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There he is a creeping
Crawling
On his eight
Tiny legs
Walking up the wall
Spinning up his tiny
Web
Pulling about those
Little strings
Tricking bugs
Into his sticky home
Sucking out their life
Before they even know
It’s venom might be harmless
To someone big like me
But oh, those poor flies
They’ll fly no more
Too bad they fell for his
Sweet song
His pretty web of lies
That he keeps spinning





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