I see, I see the place where Masters roam. But you and I could never mask their shine.

Were we lost at sea, we could see the sea as our own - come hell or high waters.

It's in the way they move, so far and wide with every stride.

I've practiced, yes; I can leap stairs one or two steps high.

Could we be so lucky? - are we so to coax steely heights?

I know, do you, too?

If not, then you belong not in Eisen's eye.

You see a glimpse of something so heinous, so devolved that you grab him by the arm in vain hope he stops. He croons the city's name through dreary eyes and a muddy shovel.

To your shock, his face spelled crazed, vindicated.

To become Them, to please Them.

What a person must be to Them.