With Vengence Come Songtext
von Adam Haworth Stephens

Oh no this living ain′t for the faint of heart
No this living is just a dying art
Talking so low in words we were told to use
We pity ourselves for enduring such self abuse
And in your trembling chin beauty wields a blade
As daylight stumbles in through the windowpane
But all the doctors keep us so reassured They'll find the sickness as soon as they find the cure
Once when you were we were oh so young
We mourned for each and every dying sun
Now they march off like children called to war
Each like the next each just like the one before
And we place wagers upon every one
If it returns i′ll bet it's with vengeance come