Cork of Worry

I heard a choir boy say outright
Good men stumble seven times
And seven times again they rise
But that's his abacus, not mine
Cos when the berth between what is
And what's deserved is this absurd
I can't be blamed for waking up expecting the worst

There are no landings on this staircase
No banisters to hold
Just a steep and constant gradient
That i keep falling from
And a spine that's getting softer til i can't stand on my own

Paper cranes from folded lives
In time

I'm afraid i've spent the life i could have had in truth
On cheaper thrills and placebo pills and quicker substitutes
Hoping for scope of heart that's massive
Arms of welcome spread obtuse
And a quiverful of shots to take
To pull the cork of worry loose
So i will wait for answers to rise out of the carpet
And believe the point will come to me in dreams
And i won't get up for anything
I'll sleep on the floor for weeks
Ears pressed to the ground, just listening

Paper cranes from folded lives
In time