Providence - Withered Hand

With providence to guide us we don’t need a map to tell us where to go

We put our high-tops on the highway and our mesh hats will follow

We weren’t born for times like these, burning cars and effigies

One road just starting as another road finishes

Oh for the hour and the power and glory would be ours

Like the hours would be the hours of the last days

We won’t hear what anyone says

It’s not the glory, it’s not the story our lives ever told

When there was somebody for me every step in the road carried them from me

And my feeble body

So we said we’d live in Paris in the tenth arrondissement

We’d be hanging out on boulevard with the idiot savant singing

«I don’t care for times like this, we’ll say we’re all anarchists»

But will anybody really understand what that means

Oh for the hour and the power and glory would be ours

Like the hours would be the hours of the last days

We won’t hear what anyone says

You’ll lose your looks, I’ll lose my religion

We’ll be god’s tiny carrier pigeons

And we’ll never return

It’s not the glory, it’s not the story our lives ever told

It’s an easy lie to tell and you told it well