I've been waiting here.
Untouched unless cobwebs were brushed from my head...

When the first flowers were born
from drops of sun-kissed ice...

Two spiders meet.
Web and bush in a twist...

Each day, same story, different grisly form.
Served by reporters with Barbie-doll smiles...

She concentrates on her fingertips,
tugging at the hem of her skirt...

Let's end it now,
Before the cold sets in...

When she laughed, the hissing lights caught her...
and stayed in her eyes as she began to speak...