Beau - Spider lyrics

And so she weaves in perfect line,
Silken spittle tracing out a net
So delicate and yet
In this perfection
Here lies death.

And so she labours on and on,
Wavering a second here and there
To make some small repair
As countless years have led
Her to.

And so she will, continuing
Her life's endeavours beauty bound to death,
That she might take her breath
'Til nature takes
The net away.