“I was feeling rather seasick as the ceiling flew away.” —Procol Harum
Not being glorious, glory was allowed to you for a short time. I checked. Not once were you mentioned in my rhyme. Not being glorious, you went back to your old habits, when the culture changed--- and life fell into bad taste, again. I listened to that song your band wrote in awe one afternoon. You stole it from Bach, didn't you? All sunny days will be forgotten soon. Not being glorious--- and even common things: nudity, a harmony which descends, poems, can be glorious--- you rally, sadly, as your song, draped in glory, ends.