you can try a million different ways of working it out
but there is nothing else that can give that feeling
so glorious, glorious, glorious,
so glorious so glorious, so glorious
and why should I try to be redeemed
when I can live on small change and slovenly dreams?
and it's only when I've sunk so low
that I can rise up again with that warm glow
so glorious, glorious, glorious,
so glorious so glorious, so glorious
and how many winters past since I saw you last?
and how many until I put away the past,
and ride to a place without storms, without snow
and come to a small barroom on the edge of a small town
and find an angel of a man there who will ply me
with drink upon drink upon drink upon drink, and I'd be
glorious, glorious, glorious,
so glorious so glorious, so glorious
for I have ridden out the down-swung curve
right straight through the very worst of storms
only to find there's still nothing quite as warm
as a simple glass of red wine so slow and
glorious, glorious, glorious,
so glorious so glorious, so glorious