Little spider, spinning your web of lies
Muffling out your victims cries
Dancing in circles, weaving your thread
Because secrets are best kept by the dead
Spread your venom and spread it well
Don't lose your composure because people can tell
Hurry and scurry for your threads are fraying
Your loyalties are ever straying
Your threads are now growing weak
Because of these lies that you keep
Weighed upon threads thick as a whisper
Your enemies now carry the scissors
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