Grace

These have been circling in my head for a week, now, so maybe it's time for me to put them here and see if anyone else can make sense of them.

Dearest, note how these two are alike:
This harpsicord pavane by Purcell
And the racer's twelve-speed bike.

The machinery of grace is always simple.
This chrome trapezoid, one wheel connected
To another of concentric gears,
Which Ptolemy dreamt of and Schwinn perfected,
Is gone. The cyclist, not the cycle, steers.
And in the playing, Purcell's chords are played away.

So this talk, or touch if I were there,
Should work its effortless gadgetry of love,
Like Dante's heaven, and melt into the air.

If it doesn't, of course, I've fallen. So much is chance,
So much agility, desire, and feverish care,
As bicyclists and harpsicordists prove

Who only by moving can balance,
Only by balancing move.

-- Machines, Michael Donaghy

And all the drugs in the world
Can't save us from ourselves
Victims with the saddest hearts
Passing by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

With grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

Lay down all your guns
Give them up and then move on
It doesn't mean that you are dead
Passing by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

With grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

With grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

There by the grace of god

And all the drugs in the world...

With grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

With grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

And all the drugs in the world
Can't save us from ourselves
Victims with the saddest hearts
Passing by the grace of god
There by the grace of god

-- There By The Grace Of God, Manic Street Preachers