1. When we tear down another’s worth, / It’s our own weakness we unearth. / Appeals to man, disdain for God, / A hollow path, a shallow fraud.
What’s valuable in me, I know, / Is not from self, but grace bestowed. / If my hands build, it’s not my own, / But proof of seeds another’s sown.
The spider spins its fragile thread, / From silken lies the fly has said. / Each word a snare, each thought confined, / A tangled trap of prideful mind.
The fly drifts toward decay, unwise, / Its words a beacon for demise. / The spider, stubborn, clings to lies, / And in its web, it too will die.
Believe in good, though eyes may fail, / For what we see is just the veil. / The unseen shapes what will prevail, / Truth is the wind that fills the sail.
(chorus)
If life were worthless, it wouldn’t rise, / Nor stars be born to light the skies. / But choice exists, and so does blame, / And truth remains a steady flame.
May our words not seek decay, / Nor prideful webs to lead astray. / Let truth reshape, let wisdom guide, / Beyond the traps of foolish pride.