O Spider of your Web, o Weeping Willow
The tear that rolls down onto my pillow
The thoughts, like rain on sodden grass
The pain that's come to pass
The centre of the earth, or of the heart
In six short verses gets ripped from part to part
The tear that rolls down onto my pillow
The thoughts, like rain on sodden grass
The pain that's come to pass
The centre of the earth, or of the heart
In six short verses gets ripped from part to part
