The Spiders' Marathon

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Gavroche

Gavroche (French pronunciation: ​[ɡavʁɔʃ]) is a fictional character in the 1862 novel Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. He is a boy who lives on the streets of Paris. His name has become a synonym for an urchin or street child. Gavroche plays a short yet significant role in the many adaptations of Les Misérables, sharing the populist ideology of the Friends of the ABC and joining the revolutionaries in the June 1832 rebellion. He figures in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th parts of the novel. more »

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The track spans long, the cracking of dawn and
The chance of what's yet to come
Cold air tears your eyes, and you are the prize at the finish,
A prey paragon
And those in the crowd
Who know what you've found
Cry "get out while you can"
But the sirens sing sweetly
Their affirmative song
At the spiders' marathon

So meet the contestants, eight legs begging questions
From "who?" to "what's your excuse?"
Among them, abusers, misusers, excusers, losers, accusers, I ain't calling them truthers
And though you should see it coming a mile away,
A marathon's got twenty-six
And so when it's time, you'll always get on
With the Spider's marathon

The runners are off! The tapping across the track
Has just begun
Some much too fast, some far too slow
And some refusing to run
You know what you see
You know what it means
You know you don't have long, but
To live you must lie and the

Legs can be sweet if you hope for the best
The bias confirms and your mind is at rest
So consigned to misfortune, resigned of your sense
You write off your thoughts as doubts or distress
And you pick your favorite, and breaking the rules
You run into his web and into his cocoon
And he sucks out your blood from the veins that protrude and
*scream*

But the effort was made, the betters got paid
The audience flees the stands
Those who once knew you pretend not to know
Pretend not to see you struggle and hope
But hope it is gone, your blood has been drawn
Your skin floats in the wind
And thus we conclude a textbook run
Of the Spiders' Marathon

So authors and writers and poets laureate
Put the pen away
Praise not what leaves you broken, betrayed
And place a bouquet on the well-deserved grave
And the moment you see them, those terrible legs
Get out while you can
Lest you sit back, raise a glass and live long
To the Spiders' Marathon
Lest you surrender, tie the knot and live long
To the Spiders' Marathon

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