Providence

and I don’t know if hope floats anymore
and I’m not sure if it’s all worth
finding an answer for

only to live life through black and white words
utterly more tangible than taste
leaving colour and sun for foreign birds
living in tales and haste
dreaming of other worlds

shrug off the nature of the beast
in King Louis armchairs and savoir-faire
escaping what was long ago, far east
with watered down wine
starched cuffs and punch lines

can we really find a way through all our dregs?
standing, yet only on two legs
can we really feel a thing through all the rot?
struggling to recall what we had never forgot
trying to find conviction under all that we thought

and I don’t know if hope floats anymore
and I’m not sure if it’s all worth
finding an answer for

we slept through the great wars, dreaming of french doors
still I didn’t know if it was a death or a birth,
that I was waiting for
sifting through a lover’s earth
finding nothing but gold and luck
overlooking milk and honey
are we standing the same or are we stuck?

How could we forget,
we were fashioned of rib and dust?
lost in human fever and sweat
fearing God's disgust
we cling to our morals and routine
the desire to stay so clean
rubbing out all that is green

Above our insignificance,
Oh surely there is Providence.