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Enslavement Of Beauty - Mere Contemplations cover art

Mere Contemplations

TypeStudio Full-length
GenresMelodic Black Metal, Gothic Metal
LabelsINRI Unlimited
Album rating :  90.5 / 100
Votes :  2
Lyrics > E > Enslavement Of Beauty Lyrics (32) >

Mere Contemplations Lyrics

Submitted by level DevilDoll
1. A Study Of Love And Metaphors (3:21)
When you fall asleep in the evening, sans fear for the rigid darkness
you go horseback riding through your dreams right to the meadows of esteem
when the hunger sweeps the night
in another red wine blight
all my grief (and all the believes that I never had
and the liberty of not even giving a fuck,
the collusion between yours truly and the quill and the drink
will be the main subject in my autobiography)
Wake up to the sight of damaged skin
you feel the sting of my knives,
it takes you way beyond the twilight skies
I'll make your head spin baby,
you'll be there in the blink of an eye
I'll make your head spin baby
you'll be:
Dead-dead! Dead-dead!
you'll be there in the blink of an eye
Make a final wish; you'll be there in a swish
your sweet, sweet heart leaves such a cute little stain
I know it hurts, hurts, hurts, when we're drained of life
it's the sweet deal, the greatest high, the sovereign vain, champagne!
I'm all wired, wrapped up in cellophane
You woke up to the sight of damaged skin
you felt the sting of my knives,
I took you way beyond the twilight skies
I made your head spin baby,
You were dead in the blink of an eye
Dead-dead, dead-dead, in the blink of an eye
Dead-dead, dead-dead, dead in the blink of an eye
I woke up to the sight of my damaged skin
I felt the sting of your knives,
you took me way beyond the twilight skies
you made my head spin fucker,
I was dead in the blink of an eye
Dead-dead, dead-dead, in the blink of an eye
Dead-dead, dead-dead, you were dead in the blink of an eye
2. X And Moments (4:07)
A precious, mouldering pleasure 'tis
to meet an antique book,
in just the dress his century wore;
a privilege, I think,
His (venerable) hand to take,
and warming in our own,
a passage back, or two, to make
to times when he was young.
His quaint opinions to inspect,
his knowledge to unfold
on what concerns our mutual mind,
the literature of old;
What interested scholars most,
what competitions ran
when Plato was a certainty,
and Sophocles a man;
When Sappho was a living girl,
and Beatrice wore
the gown that Dante deified.
facts, centuries before,
He traverses familiar,
as one should come to town
and tell you all your dreams were true:
he lived where dreams were born.
His presence is enchantment,
you beg him not to go;
old volumes shake their vellum heads
and tantalize, just so.
And there's grief of hunger, and grief of cold
and there's a sort they call despair
there's banishment from primitive lust
in the slightest sight of fundamental air
3. The Perilous Pursuit Of Volition (3:31)
The heart seeks pleasure first
and then, excuse from the deeds;
and then, those awkward moments
where the suffering exceed
The wow echoes with the gust
and the wretched silence wail
the minutes turn to hours
as the tint of mischief turns pale
The demise of all emotions
and the search for tranquil seas
the filthy heart restored
as the suffering now recedes
And then, to fall again
and then, if there should be
a trace of will to succeed
it'll last for eternity
4. Exit There; And Disappear (5:07)
So many a glorious morn have I seen
the sun gracing the mountain-tops with its light
kissing with tender lips the meadows green
gilding pale streams of alchemy with heavenly blight
Even as my sun one early morn did shine
with all its triumphant splendour
alack, its grace was but one hour mine;
an ugly visage shone through its cruel agenda
When heaven suddenly came this near
it seemed to close all doors
the distance would not haunt me so
as the presence of the tales I had merely known before
But just to hear the grace depart
pain I never thought I'd see
afflicts me with a double loss
the fucking track is lost, and lost to me
5. An Affinity For Exuberance (3:58)
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
6. Abundance Extends To Lush (3:44)
If I had a daily bliss
a somewhat cheerful view
a silent grace I could perceive
to grow as I pursued

Then when, around midnight
instead of wasted from my sight;
loaded beyond the utmost space
I'd have one average night
I measure every fucker I meet
with a**lytic eyes;
I wonder if their grief weighs like mine
or has an easier size

I wonder if, when these years have piled
if the pain will still be as real
the early hurt, such a lapse
a lifetime of grief bereaved of appeal

Will I just go on aching?
through centuries above
exposed by god to a larger pain
by contrast with the promise of love

They say heaven is packed and that's where we go
but I've got one hell of a surprise
your death is but one and came but once
and only nailed your eyes

And though I may not guess the right kind
correctly, yet to me
and the piercing comfort it creates;
passing portions of fiery glee

The denotes of the fashions of the cross
of those that stand alone
still fascinated to presume
that some has a view like my own
7. I Raise My Craving Hands (3:27)
The Polaroid of perfection, demirep and stained with hate
well wounded I stuttle the crowd with my vogue lack of faith
the up and coming vendetta, the # vultures' extremes
spruce me up with a sweet little plaything, spruce me fucking supreme
I raise my craving hands, to the image of her promised land
the succulent teenage cunt, tempteth me to exeunt
Wish me well, wish me hell...all I ever wanted was a story to tell
The absence of goals, the lack of control
the absence of aim and the present fame...
The absence of goals, the lack of control
everyone knows I should be extolled
the absence of aim and the present fame
everyone would sell their souls to play this game's the game we play...
8. Nostalgia Grows (3:10)
Gazing at what could have been
a lethal doze of her fertile pose
what will all these inklings mean
if I reveal how deep the spiral go
Crystal fecund fancies flew
emerged through blood-red veils
sky-blue yet dead grey - the winds blew
Forced my lofty head to lean
is this lass a fevered rose?
is she not sinless and pristine?
is it not always gold what glows?
She hides her hideousness in evergreens
but be cautious her blade is keen
when held down by an angel pose
her talons can't be foreseen
When the nightmare initiates from a rose
and this hale nostalgia grows...
9. Impressions (4:07)
Reaching heights at the shores, only dreamt of before
while the mountains rise tall in my view
my poisoned heart beats, crystal water's at my feet
as I hope to catch a glimpse of the swans
A sudden calm rise as I watch the blue skies
a soothing chill comes with the breeze
I lay down to rest while the sun sets in west
with an itch in my cold urban soul
I glance upon the hills, carpetbombed by thrills
as the forrest bestows peace upon the void
possessed by dim light, desire sweeps the night
and the climax shines through bluebell mist
As I awake from sleep, desire still sweeps
and the echoes thunders from afar
hours are plundered by the post orgasmic slumber
as the sun seeks shelter in the skies
The sky upholds the rush with a sudden strange blush
passing oceans to reach these shores
the woods sing despair as ruins appear
changing course, sailing into the sun
Exhausted by pleasure I cherish this treasure
I stand naked admiring the view
I behold the purple sky as the summerwinds cry
and the trees turn red beneath the sun
Entangled in sleep as the nightwind weeps
dreaming from dusk 'til dawn
a grey day follows, but far from hollow
I awake to the voice of an angel
If I dream on tomorrow, I will know no sorrow
and if I do I'll just blame it on the rain
leaving the beach in favour of the breach
bounding stronger by every touch
10. 11:23 pm (5:12)
As I felt this grace depart
it was a pain I never thought I'd feel
afflicted me with a double loss
as even the track was lost, and lost for real
The heart beats faster in the wake of disaster...
The spiral to her soul, guiding a schizoid to his goal
with pantomime gestures as the god sent decoy
it's a matrix to the heart, lodging happiness to art
leading me to this genuine perception of joy
That penitentiary passivity, imprisoned by negativity
the pandemonium was defeated by the touch of a dove
like a million wild engines roaring through me with vengeance
turning my digital soul into circuits of love
Nothing could measure my love for your treasures
fluent and blooming, I swear this is true
sparkling I followed, no longer feeling hollow
the paraphrase is simple, I fell in love with you
I get so disappointed when in the end it seems
that life is but a sheer revolt to the dream...
Nothing could measure my love for your treasures
fluent and blooming, I swear this is true
sparkling I followed, no longer feeling hollow
the paraphrase is simple, I fell in love with you
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