and when glory reduces us to spellbound slaves we are fit for betrayal but love it so, i don't think so when an ordinary day is the only living that can show us glory and all its deceit it can never be the same glory again, i see so and the climbers who tell of their amputated toes frozen off or the ones who never lived to tell of their glory oh! what their dreams must have been before they left for beulaland
