Spiders

Your breathing' fine, my knees are like, cuffed in your love.
Just read my eyes, hips do lies, comes from your heart.
Can I get a fix on this? Can I get, best of this?
Sundays, ya' ain’t that old.
And a little fun is all the rest, so I climb your hills up through the Everest.
Up these skies, just keep my eyes, cuffed from her love,
But, if there’s no sign, there’s. ain’t no cryin'. sits in above.
Can I get a, fix on this? Can I get a, best of this?
Mondays, ya same and old… But, a little fun is always fine, better gets your
likely unbelieving crime.
And every time you feed the spider around your neck.
And every night you see the face above your neck… turns around, and around,
in a bliss.
But it keeps standing on my fingers bleeding; tell me how I really leave this
earth behind my eyes…