That point where perspective fails Is a sharp and shameless end A failure, yes I must confess For I have preached and I have practiced And yet I have managed to fester a mess Acquired a weightless collection of because While fate heckles with his game of luck Conducting an explicit scene That has made a joke out of my childish dream Finding solace in the irregularity of unearthly absolutes I will carry my sore knees, drag my swollen knuckles To rescue the sweet of my laborious fruits