I’ve written a song called “Scraping for a Sound” about homicidal spider mating rituals, a seductive Venus flytrap and her victims and a scary scrap collector building seductive drum kits (or so he believes). This is the second verse.
There is a Venus flytrap dominates my flower bed
Easy on the eye, but rather vile, it must be said
A diva during daytime, a criminal by night
She has designs on wanton flies that whet her appetite
She leads ’em on when they are young, oozing her perfume
On her tacky landing strip they always meet their doom
Helplessly they wriggle, to her belly they descend
She eats up every flyboy – they come to a sticky end
