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with providence to guide us we don't need a map to tell us where to gowe put our high-tops on the highway and our mesh hats will followwe weren't born for times like these, burning cars and effigiesone road just starting as another road finishesoh for the hour and the power and glory would be ourslike the hours would be the hours of the last dayswe won't hear what anyone saysits not the glory, it's not the story our lives ever toldwhen there was somebody for me every step in the road carried them from meand my feeble bodyso we said we'd live in Paris in the tenth arrondissementwe'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 meansoh for the hour and the power and glory would be ourslike the hours would be the hours of the last dayswe won't hear what anyone saysyou'll lose your looks, i'll lose my religionwe'll be god's tiny carrier pigeonsand we'll never returnits not the glory, it's not the story our lives ever toldit's an easy lie to tell and you told it well Aus Songtexte Mania