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    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
    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

    Cosa ne pensi di "An Affinity For Exuberance" di Enslavement Of Beauty?

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