An Affinity for Exuberance Lyrics
| Song | An Affinity for Exuberance |
| Artist | Enslavement of Beauty |
| Album | Mere Contemplations |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Ole Alexander Myrholt ... | |
| A wounded soul leaps highest | |
| I've heard the poet tell | |
| 'tis but the ecstasy of death | |
| And then the breath is still | |
| As I lay, defeated, I'm dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I'm dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| The smitten soul that gushes | |
| The trampled heart that springs | |
| A wearied ghost that keeps running | |
| From where the torment stings | |
| Mirth is the prelude to anguish, | |
| And laughter is its final aim | |
| Lest some fucker spot the wicked | |
| And do not fail to exclaim! | |
| As I lay, defeated, I'm dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I'm dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| Success is counted sweetest | |
| By those who never succeed | |
| To comprehend a fame like this | |
| Requires sorest need | |
| Not one of all those fuckers | |
| Who rose the flag today | |
| Can even tell the definition of fame | |
| So pure, of victory |
| zuo qu : Ole Alexander Myrholt ... | |
| A wounded soul leaps highest | |
| I' ve heard the poet tell | |
| ' tis but the ecstasy of death | |
| And then the breath is still | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| The smitten soul that gushes | |
| The trampled heart that springs | |
| A wearied ghost that keeps running | |
| From where the torment stings | |
| Mirth is the prelude to anguish, | |
| And laughter is its final aim | |
| Lest some fucker spot the wicked | |
| And do not fail to exclaim! | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| Success is counted sweetest | |
| By those who never succeed | |
| To comprehend a fame like this | |
| Requires sorest need | |
| Not one of all those fuckers | |
| Who rose the flag today | |
| Can even tell the definition of fame | |
| So pure, of victory |
| zuò qǔ : Ole Alexander Myrholt ... | |
| A wounded soul leaps highest | |
| I' ve heard the poet tell | |
| ' tis but the ecstasy of death | |
| And then the breath is still | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| The smitten soul that gushes | |
| The trampled heart that springs | |
| A wearied ghost that keeps running | |
| From where the torment stings | |
| Mirth is the prelude to anguish, | |
| And laughter is its final aim | |
| Lest some fucker spot the wicked | |
| And do not fail to exclaim! | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you near | |
| As I lay, defeated, I' m dying | |
| Longing to have you here | |
| Success is counted sweetest | |
| By those who never succeed | |
| To comprehend a fame like this | |
| Requires sorest need | |
| Not one of all those fuckers | |
| Who rose the flag today | |
| Can even tell the definition of fame | |
| So pure, of victory |
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