Normals, The - We Are The Beggars At The Foot Of God's Door
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We are gathered in cathedrals on a Sunday We are shrouded in our pride and lust's despair We have heard that You said to go to where your hearts once were Trusting we'd arrive to find You there We have known the empty senses of a funeral We are haunted by the promises of death We have asked to see Your face and noticed nothing But a well-timed honest smile from a friend, Oh we of little faith, Oh You of stubborn grace We are the beggars at the foot of God's door We have grown cold to the kisses of our lovers We have rolled the windows up and driven through The forests of the autumn, The innocence of snow The metaphor of Jesus in the dew We have known the heated passion of the cold night We have sold ourselves to everything we hate We're hypocrites and politicians running from a fight We've cheated on a very jealous mate, Oh we of little faith, Oh You stubborn grace We are the beggars at the foot of God's door We have known the pain of loving in a dying world And our lies have made us angry at the truth But Cinderella's slipper fits us perfectly And somehow we're made royalty with You, Oh we of little faith, Oh You of stubborn grace We are the beggars at the foot of God's door And You have welcomed us in
