The Web Marillion

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
Christ, you've finished playing hangman, you've cast the fateful dice
Advise, advise, advise me
This shroud shall 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
Oh, please do last
Oh, please do last