If all women come from Venus,
And spiders come from Mars,
Then men must come from planet Earth,
Gazing up at the stars,
Valiantly spinning their webs,
Catch her behind false bars.

Watch as he spins his sticky web,
But it’s not to catch flies,
The biggest web; the biggest tree,
And centre stage it lies,
And to expand his lush garden,
The vision in his eyes.

Watch him as he plants all his seeds,
Then watch his garden grow,
He scatters seeds most ev'rywhere,
As some shoot very slow,
Now watch the flowers spring to life,
And hear the waters flow.

I have to marvel at how his,
Garden he does enhance,
And at the meticulous way,
He tends to all his plants,
Makes sure he’s thought of all their needs,
And leaves nothing to chance.

Ever since the serpent convinc’d,
Eve to eat from the tree,
Ev’ry girl from around the world,
Has followed in her lee,
They know the fruit is poisonous,
But pleasures are not free.

The older girls they all cry out,
“Eat that and you’ll regret”,
Because they tasted when still young,
And got spat out I’ll bet,
Or else that sly, one-eyed serpent,
Has not crossed their path yet.

And they could find food somewhere else,
But not one could refute,
That they are tempted by the taste,
Of his sickly sweet fruit,
And as for the competition,
There can be no dispute.

So as he spreads his time around,
I tend to only one,
Give my seed too much nurturing,
Too much care, too much sun,
And now, my seed, it just won’t shoot,
It has been overdone.

First impressions, they always lie,
They are but a façade,
If you drop my web of deceit,
You will see my real card,
And I am not the King of Hearts,
But dog-eared and marred.

Still the same boy I always was,
I still have the same face,
I’m still the same boy as before,
Just in a different place,
My promises already gone,
Mistakes can’t be erased.

I now must weave another web,
Carefully strand by strand,
And ev’ry thread that I do spin,
Must be delightf’lly grand,
Because my original net,
Was horrible and bland.

If all women come from Venus,
And spiders come from Mars,
Then men must come from planet Earth,
Gazing up at the stars,
Valiantly spinning their webs,
Catch her behind false bars.

But winter shall come sometime soon,
And with it comes a frost,
His garden won’t grow in the cold,
The apples will be lost,
For neglecting the need for warmth,
He does now pay the cost.

I change my web into a rug,
And then I can invite,
You to find comfort in the warmth,
Where you can spend the night,
In my caref’lly secured cocoon,
Where ev’rything’s alright.

So if women come from Venus,
They’re not used to the cold,
And so spiders should stay on Mars,
And men should be more bold,
To turn the web into a rug,
And find someone to hold.