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Enslavement Of Beauty
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An Affinity for Exuberance
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 it's final aim
Lest some fucker spot the wicked
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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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