Mark Lenover Falling Down
He is the baker and we are the bread
We are the body and He is the head
We are the clothing and He is the form
We are the raindrops and He is the storm
Hallelujah
We are the apple and He is the core
We are the shipwrecked and He is the shore
He is the sculptor and we arе the clay
We are thе lost, yes and He is the way
Hallelujah
I'm always falling down
But He picks me up, dusts me off
And sets me back onto solid ground
He patiently waits for me to turn away
From the gods I've made
Of ego, ambition and an empty electric cacophony
He waits for his prodigal son to find his way back home
