The liquefied glass through which an Angel can pass or look solemnly on, is an impregnable force but of course not for Angels I see. I have yet to be an Angel.
I walk on the edge of incredible dreams and it all seems quite plausible to me, I have yet to be an Angel.
In the fullness of time when the glass is half empty she comes with a refill to fill me. I have yet to be an Angel.
There are tracks laid down hard in the marshalling yard and the marshalling yard is me. I have yet to be an Angel.
I'm in no hurry, I'm aware that time chews on glass through which Angels can pass. I have yet to be an Angel.