| Song | Abundance Extends to Lush |
| Artist | Enslavement of Beauty |
| Album | Mere Contemplations |
| 作曲 : Ole Alexander Myrholt ... | |
| 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 analytic 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 |
| zuò qǔ : Ole Alexander Myrholt ... | |
| 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 analytic 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 |