[in imitation of life]
Happiness comes in the form of a clear night sky & warm concrete.
And without warning when we’re almost at the top The wheel that turns us all comes to a sudden stop. The wind that’s blown us dies a quick and painless death The air gets clammy and we hold each other’s breath We get the feeling that we’re not alone in this And then a God who really ought not to exist Sticks out a great big hand And grabs me by the wrist And asks me "why? " and I say "well god, it’s like this It may be arrogance Or just appalling taste But I’d rather use my pain than let it all go to waste On some old God who tells me what I want to hear As if I cannot tell obedience from fear I want to take my pleasures where and how I will, Be they disgraceful or distasteful or distilled And to be frank I find that life has more appeal Without a driver who’s asleep behind the wheel" Then God decides that he has taken quite enough Of all this atheistic tosh I’m spouting off And so he calls upon his favourite angel choir To sing of times when men were filled with christian fire But over-zealous angels flap their wings too fast And cause the wind to blow and turn the wheel at last And soon my feet are safely back on solid ground And then I hear a voice say "don’t look down!".
[the divine comedy | don't look down | Promenade | 1994]