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