Thin translucent corners, surging upward
Prickling, fickle, thine hair at thine hips
Always that way, wishing to move forward
Pushing one such as me, further from thee
When I could hear thy voice calling softly
Oh what's to do my love, oh, what will be? But not to me, she throws these words about
Her voice as sweet as honey trapping flies
Her web ensnaring me, drawing me in
Her syrupy voice lays out sweet, sweet lies
Loving her creation was not my sin
Twas’ envy that caused me to fall from grace
Twas’ jealousy that caused all my disgrace
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