The rain auditions at my window,
its symphony echoes in my womb.
My gaze scans the walls of this apartment
to rectify the confines of my tomb.
I'm the Cyclops in the tenement,
I'm the soul without the cause,
crying 'midst my rubber plants,
ignoring beckoning doors.
Clippings from ancient newspapers,
lie scattered cross the floor,
stained by the wine from a shattered glass,
meaningless words, yellowed by time.
Faded photos exposing pain,
celluloid leeches bleeding my mind.
You've finished playing hangman,
you've cast the fateful dice.
Advice, advice, advice me!
This shroud will not suffice.
And thus begins the web.
Attempting to discard these clinging memories
I only serve to wallow in our past.
I fabricate the weave with my excuses.
Its strands - I hope and pray - shall last.
Oh, please do last!
The fly-trap needs the insects,
ivy caresses the wall.
Needles make love to the junkies,
the sirens seduce with their call.
Confidence has deserted me,
with you it has forsaken me.
Confused and rejected, despised and alone
I kiss isolation on its fevered brow.
Security clutching me, obscurity threatening me.
Your reasons were so obvious.
As my friend have qualified,
I only laughed away your tears,
but even jesters cry!
I realize I hold the key to freedom.
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads.
The time has come to make decisions,
the changes have to be made.
I realize I hold the key to freedom.
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads.
The time has come to make decisions,
the changes have to be made.
Now I leave you, the past does have its say.
You're all but forgotten, a mote in my heart
Decisions have been made, decisions have been made.
I've conquered my fears, the flaming shroud.
Thus ends the web.