A Man Can Fall

In the earthly battle for the keep of paradise, There is no blood in the mercy; no escape from the price,
Vanities and dreams halo the skull of the clay,
And keep his homeless eyes focused on the myth of someday.

But when the time has come for the baptism of will,
He's liable to balk and stall,
Because a man can fall.

It's a dark path of meaningless necessity,
He looks at the world as a mirror that sees what it wants to see,
And the sanity of ebb and orbit seems lunatic,
Till the spinning globe of days makes him feel sober sick.

All the useless work that can break a man's back, Is likely to slow him to a crawl,
Because a man can fall.

Under clouds the stars give no direction,
Just another false engine primed for rejection,
His blood runs a bitter vintage once his heart is crushed,
His head just the ringing of silence once his voice is hushed.

His pilgrimage an exercise in humility's stoop,
And the idols stand so tough and tall,
But a man can fall.

Inspiration is just the exhaust of his religion's bait, A stuttering desire; the wind and warden of his fate,
His swallowed seed yet spread of kindred and kin, His wretched heart a debtor to the bank of original sin.

How like an animal he prowls the face of the deep,
And the angels fly so high till the world seems so small,
But a man can't fly,
Because a man can fall.