Cork of Worry

I heard a quiet voice say alright
Good men stumble seven times
And seven times again they rise
But that’s his abacus amok
'Cause 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 folding lives in time
Paper cranes from folding 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 quiver full of shots to take to pull the cork of worry loose
So I will wait for answers to rise out of the garden
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 folding lives in time
Paper cranes from folding lives in time
Quiver full of shots to take
Quiver full of shots to take
Quiver full of shots to take
Quiver full of shots to take
Quiver full of shots to take
Quiver full of shots to take
Paper cranes from folding lives in time
Paper cranes from folding lives in time