Track 3 of _Script For A Jester's Tear_ The rain auditions at my window, it's 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 he 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 Advise, advise, advise me, this shroud will not suffice. 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 flytrap needs the insect, ivy caresses the wall Needles make love to the Junkies, 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 it's fevered brow Security clutching me, obscurity threatening me Your reasons were so obvious as my friends have qualified I only laughed away your tears, but even jesters cry I realise 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 realise 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 has had 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.
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