Sliding From The Peak

The fridge door is open
as the cellar door squeaks.
 And the man on the roof
is sliding from the peak.
And within the shadow of his eyes
It I sent fibs it I sent lies
And comes as no surprise
Before he sings before he  cries
With a prediction of the wind and a prelude to the truth
Took all the right steps but made the wrong move.
A man is dead from a fall of a roof

Just because he can now he can't no more.

He scratched the itch of the sound of the squeaking cellar door.