His mind is a web Lies running through lines Craftiness lives rent-free in his blood Maybe he was born with it Or perhaps he acquired it along the lanes The lanes of life He knows your weaknesses Like a moth stuck in a web; he skilfully feasts on you You are his prey; a beautiful prey You don't see it until the blood is drained completely from your veins You struggle to be set free from his entanglement From the snare his tongue's held you in Too bad, my darling You were his prey from the moment he said "Hi" By: Sambasy
