Spider Solitaire

Stuff is suspiciously silent Spider Solitaire Like when all the wrong cards Line up for failure with a grand slam The blockade of advantages The stuff space is made of. The smokey fixtures The dusty stinking velvet A dirty green of a dream The stuff rubble is made of The channeling of a losing emotion The Spider Solitaire Silenced to suspicion. Po po six in black and the outcome Of a defeating trio of tens The position of which never mattered All the maneuvers of this rubbish The lows and the highs And the tens of thousands Who played Spider Solitaire. Stuff is suspiciously silent And then loses the game What is it about 'what' That makes this thing happen? The silencing and it's thick hangings The solitude of the Spider Called upon to Solitaire. /me file save-life saved On the way up the escalator down once more Up to that room where Solitaire is played And dreams are made of Stuff, an escort to the highs and lows Makes it unbearable the hunger For more of the same. Let her cache or restart the game Or in preference conquer again Let Tally trick the deck over either Solitaire is unfailing to gain Stuff happens It crawls upon time happening On the web between the drappings. A mused contemplation Stuff in a room by her lonesome Occasions the fabric raiser The pass time of card playing Interrupted by here and theres And so the hobby goes The Spider Solitaire is written.