The Fly
by Peter Loaf

Climbing the condo, fly on the wall
The jewels taking, her nightly haul
The rich relieving
Of wealth unseeming
Fiftieth story, better not fall

Balcony reaching, the dark of night
The condo empty, and locked up tight
The window ajar
Its too high by far
The fly she enters, her footsteps light

The safe shes cracking, knowing the tricks
Stethoscope listens, tiniest clicks
The jewels awaiting
Her breath abating
Diamonds and rubies, profit and kicks

The lurking spider, dressed all in black
The shadows shifting, sudden attack
Strong hands compelling
Chloroform smelling
The fly succumbing, muscles go slack

Spider-web waking, she cannot kick
Hands bound to ankles, gonna be sick
Bound in the middle
Tight as a fiddle
Cat suit in ribbons, the dirty trick

The fly she wiggles, the cutting cord
Face down and naked, his dripping sword
Fingers come smearing
Bucking and rearing
Buttered bum spearing, her apple cored

The fly so helpless, the spider stings
Her body burning, his passion brings
Riding and reaming
End to her scheming
Spider web gripping, her body sings